


Year 1 - The Philosopher's Stone

by Khodexus



Series: Harry Potter and the Dragon's Heir [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Quidditch, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 72,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khodexus/pseuds/Khodexus
Summary: What do you do against a man who, with a seemingly inconsequential act, can change the very course of your destiny?  Harry Potter is the prophesied hero, but can prophecy be wrong?





	1. Prologue – A Shadow of Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence (yet).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

A tall man sat calmly at a booth in a crowded pub waiting for another man with whom he had conspired to change the course of history.  He made no effort to conceal his presence, and thus he went mostly unnoticed as he sipped his drink in solitude.  His back was to most of the room, but that only made it easier to listen in, and remain aware of comings and goings.

 

He heard his co-conspirator’s footsteps before the pale man entered his field of view.

 

“It is done?”  He asked without looking up, making a subtle gesture to the empty chair across from him.

 

“The charm is in place.”  the man replied nervously as he sat down, glancing around the room behind the taller man.

 

“Stop fidgeting, and look at me.  You look like a man with something to hide.”

 

The newcomer stopped and looked directly at his calm companion.  “Why, a place like this?” He asked; his tone a little more controlled.

 

“It is public; we can see and hear all that goes on.  Anyone who saw us in a darkened alley might suppose we were up to no good.”

 

“But we are…”

 

“Two friends meeting over a pint.”  The tall man interrupted his companion.

 

“Right…  So, if your information is correct, then events are already set in motion that will take the boy on the path of _our_ choosing.  Is that right?”  The nervous man asked.

 

“Do you doubt my vision?”  The tall man raised one pale eyebrow, “I have never been wrong.  Only right in unexpected ways.  The Master knows this, and will no doubt reward you for following my instructions.”  The nervous man flinched upon hearing the word ‘Master’.  “And, you still have your part to play, so don’t let me keep you.”

 

After a moment of quiet, the nervous man spoke, “The boy didn’t seem particularly remarkable to me.  I would like to know more about this path we are setting him on.”  He searched the tall man’s expression, but it gave nothing away.

 

“I have foreseen that the boy is _key_ to the success of our plans.”  The tall man replied cryptically.

 

“So you know how this will end then?  The boy will ensure our victory?”

 

“Prophecy is a tricky thing.  None can say with absolute certainty.  But I can say; this path is most likely to produce a favorable outcome, provided we continue to nurture it.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment to keep, and you had better get back before you’re missed.  _He_ doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

The nervous man flinched again, rose from the table, bowed briefly, turned, and left.  The tall man smiled to himself, and after a time paid for his drinks, and departed his own way.


	2. Chapter 1 – Diagon Alley to Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s first visit to Diagon Alley, and then the journey from platform nine and three quarters, but things have already been set in motion that will change the course of Harry’s life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence (yet).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

Harry was still astounded by the unlikely chain of events that had led to him standing with a goblin-run wizard bank behind him, and a smorgasbord of magical shops all up and down the street in front of him.  He was a wizard, and there was a whole world of magic and wonder that he’d never before dreamed existed.  His aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, had tried to keep this knowledge from him since he’d come to live with them when he was only a year old, but his new friend Hagrid, had set him straight.  Hagrid was a giant but friendly man covered in a thick worn coat with a mass of tangled hair sprouting from both his head and face.   Harry had only just turned 11 that very day and they’d come here, to Diagon Alley – a place hidden by magic in the very heart of London – to purchase the things he’d need at the new school he’d be attending in just over a month.

 

Harry reviewed the list he’d received along with his letter of invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  It detailed all the things he needed to bring as a first year student: robes, cauldrons, books of course, and he’d even get his own magic wand.  He was definitely looking forward to that part.  The ornate and stately bank behind them held wizarding money, and Harry had been quite surprised to learn that his parents had left him a small fortune.  The Dursleys had told him his parents had died in a car crash, when – as Harry had learned earlier that day – the truth was that they had died at the hands of the dark wizard Voldemort.

 

Every witch or wizard Harry had met that day had instantly recognized his name, or the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, which – he’d been told – was a mark of the dark magic Voldemort had used in an effort to kill him and his parents.  For reasons no one seemed to understand, the spell hadn’t worked the way it was meant to.  Harry’s parents had died, but he had survived, and Voldemort had disappeared.  That, apparently, was why Harry was famous in the wizarding world, and why everyone knew who he was.

 

“Might as well get yer uniform.” Hagrid’s gruff, friendly voice interrupted Harry’s musings.  He turned to see the man, twice as tall as most ordinary men, nod towards a nearby shop.  The sign outside read, “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions”.  “Listen, ‘Arry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron?  I hate them Gringotts carts.”  Hagrid had been looking ill, Harry had to admit; since the veritable roller coaster ride on the goblin carts in the bank.  The carts were certainly an exciting way to navigate the vast underground labyrinth where the various vaults beneath London were placed.   Hagrid hadn’t handled the ride very well – Harry had almost lost his money over the side during a particularly sharp jolt – and he could understand why the big man might want something from the pub to steady his nerves.  The Leaky Cauldron was a quaint establishment filled with witches and wizards.  It also seemed to serve as the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley.

 

“Might as well, I’ll be alright.” Harry assured his large friend.  He turned to move toward the door to the robe shop, glancing in the window to get an idea of what he might expect.  He spotted a pale boy with white blonde hair standing on a stool next to someone pinning up a black robe draped over him.  Harry stopped short with his hand barely on the door knob when he realized Hagrid was still carrying his money.  He’d offered to hold onto the bag of gold and silver coins on the ride back up from the vaults in Gringotts.  “Hagrid?”  He turned around; Hagrid was out of earshot, but not out of sight.  It would be very difficult to lose sight of the large man, even in this crowd, considering how much he towered over the other wizarding folk.

 

He glanced around wildly, drawing a look from the blonde boy he’d spotted earlier, and shouted, “Hagrid!” as he moved a little ways down the street.  He jogged a little and jostled through the crowd, hoping he wouldn’t get trampled or some such.  “Hagrid?!” he called again, but then stopped short as the giant suddenly appeared before him.

 

“Blimey, ‘Arry, I thought yeh was gettin’ yer robes fitted?”  Hagrid looked surprised, but concerned, and still green around the face.

 

“I was, but… you have my money, remember?” Harry informed him.

 

“Uh, right.” Hagrid looked sheepish.  He started patting down the pockets on his coat to find it, but then also began to sway on his feet.  In a momentary panic, Harry glanced around, and quickly motioned the giant over to a white stone bench outside a small store selling ice cream and sweets.  He sat patiently while Hagrid caught his breath then fished out the bag of money.

 

“ ‘Ere ya go.” He looked a bit recovered, and sat for a moment longer as Harry stood.

 

“Thanks, I’ll see you when you get back.”  Harry gave him a reassuring smile.

 

Hagrid stood before he could move off.  “I’ll get yeh some ice cream.” The man said, eyeing the sign above the store.  “Go an’ get yer robes, an’ meet me back ‘ere, a’right?”

 

“Alright, sounds great!” Harry beamed then turned and trotted off towards Madam Malkin’s once more.  With money in his hand, he was feeling more confident than he’d been when he’d first started to enter the store.

 

Once inside, he was greeted by a short sturdy woman dressed in mauve robes, who Harry figured must be Madam Malkin.  “Hogwarts dear?” she spoke before Harry had a chance to start.  “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”  Towards the back of the shop, the same pale boy he’d seen earlier was still standing on a footstool while Malkin’s assistant was finishing pinning his robes in place to get the proper fit.  Harry was stood onto a stool next to him, and the proprietor draped a matching long black robe over his head and began to start on the same process for him.

 

“Hello.” Said the boy in a slightly bored drawl, “Hogwarts too?”

 

“Yes.” Harry nodded, standing as still as possible afraid he might be pricked by the pins.

 

“What was that all about just now?” He continued.

 

“Oh, I almost forgot my money before coming in here.” Harry said, blushing a bit in his embarrassment.

 

“I’ve done that.” The other boy shrugged.  “I usually have Dobby or Mother carry my money for me.  She’s up the street just now, looking at wands.”

 

Harry was silent for a moment, before turning towards his new acquaintance, who had quieted and stilled while the pinned and fitted robe had been pulled off over his head.  The boy then pulled on another robe, similar in appearance and cut, but different in color, and far more elaborate in its design.  This was also mostly black, with silver and green trim, a small shield emblem decorating the front over his heart, with a pair of dragons on either side, and two serpents coiled about the top.

 

“I really don’t know what to expect.” Harry began.  “My parents never got the chance to explain all of this to me, I only just found out they were a witch and a wizard.”

 

The boy looked confused for a moment, but also slightly more interested and less bored.  “Oh so you’re from one of the wizarding families?  Well, how much do you know?”

 

“I know I’m a wizard, but my aunt and uncle who raised me were… normal people… what’s the word?”

 

“You were raised by muggles?”  The boy supplied.

 

“Yes, that’s it.”  Harry beamed.

 

“Now there’s a twist.” The blonde mused, “So you’re not muggle born, but still don’t know our ways?  That must be rough, what happened to your real parents?”

 

“They’re dead.  They died when I was very young.”

 

“Oh, sorry.”  He didn’t sound very sorry, but it was comforting to hear him make the effort anyway.  “Well, that’s father outside just now.” He added.  Then Harry spotted a man through the window with the same complexion and hair color as this boy, but quite a bit taller.  “But I’m sure we’ll see each other more at school, or on the way there.”  He paused and turned back, adding almost as an afterthought, “If you still have questions by then, I’m sure I can explain anything you might need to know.”

 

He was soon out the door, and Harry didn’t have much chance to reply.  A simple ‘Thank you’ was all he got out, but the boy left Harry smiling nonetheless.  It was good to know there were more people in this new world of magic that would be friendly and helpful, even if the boy did seem a little aloof.

 

After his robes were fitted, Harry went back to the ice cream parlor, where he was happy to find Hagrid with his normal pallor restored.  They enjoyed their dessert, then spent some time purchasing the rest of the things he’d need, including his school books, a cauldron, and of course a wand.

 

Ollivanders was by far the quietest shop Harry had visited, and the proprietor, Mr. Ollivander, had unsettled Harry, as he’d had him try out numerous wands, before finding the one that suited him best.  It turned out, the wand he’d been given held a phoenix feather core, and the phoenix whose feather resided in his wand had given just one other feather; a feather which formed the core of Voldemort’s wand.  Ollivander found this coincidence ‘curious’.  Harry found it disturbing.  But even that couldn’t dampen the appreciation he felt for his wand.  It felt perfect in his hand.

 

After wand shopping, Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl as a birthday present, which Harry had come to name Hedwig.  It was only later as he sat with Hagrid eating some food back in the muggle part of London that he realized he hadn’t asked the boy in the robe shop his name.  He supposed he’d have to remedy that when he saw him ‘on the way to Hogwarts’.  Which led to another thought.  “Hagrid?  How will I get to Hogwarts?”

 

“Oh, that.” The man retrieved an envelope from yet another pocket in his coat, which Harry swore was made of nothing but pockets.  “Yer tickets fer tha Hogwarts Express.” He informed him.  Tha’s the train tha’ take yeh from King’s Cross station ter Hogwarts.  All the instructions are there on yer ticket, jus’ remember ter be at King’s Cross on tha first o’ September.”

 

“So the other students will be on the train with me?” he asked, glancing over the ticket and instructions in his hand.

 

“Most of ‘em.” Hagrid affirmed.  “Now let’s get yer home.” He said, rising to his feet.  Together, they made it to the train that would take Harry to his home, Hagrid helped him board, but paused when Harry was just inside, and Hagrid still on the platform, “First o’ September, don’ forget.  An’ if the Dursleys give yeh any trouble jus’ send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where ta find me… See yeh soon, ‘Arry.”

 

As the train was leaving, Harry pressed his nose to the window, hoping to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight, but the big man disappeared between one blink and the next, mystifying the youth, but intriguing him as well.  Magic was going to be a lot of fun, he decided.

 

* * * * *

 

When September 1st came around, Harry woke up early, and was far too excited and nervous to get back to sleep.  He’d made arrangements with his uncle Vernon to be taken to King’s Cross station.  Though, when he’d asked about it the previous day, Vernon had seemed to think it was funny that his ticket instructed him to leave from ‘Platform Nine and Three Quarters’.  His uncle was convinced there was no such thing.

 

So there Harry stood alone in his t-shirt and jeans, his panic rising, staring at the platforms nine and ten and at a complete loss of what to do next.  Vernon had driven away after wishing him a ‘good term’ and he was beginning to suspect his uncle had been right about platform nine and three quarters not existing.  Hagrid had tapped ‘the third brick from the left’ to open the magical passage into Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry wasn’t certain he had the nerve to start tapping bricks between the platforms with his wand.  It was bad enough people were staring at him for his owl, Hedwig, sleeping in her cage on his cart.

 

He was interrupted from his despairing musings by the sound of a nearby voice, “– Packed with muggles, of course –”  He spun around to see a motherly woman walking with four boys and a young girl, all with bright red hair.  He knew the word muggle was only used by wizards to refer to non-magic folk.  He wasn’t certain what he would have done with the knowledge, for at that moment he heard another voice, this one somewhat familiar.

 

“Hey, you there!”  Harry turned again, scanning the crowd for the boy he’d met at the robe shop.  He first spotted the tall white-blonde man identified as the boy’s father.  Beside him walked a shorter woman about the same age, with much darker hair.  A moment later he spotted the boy himself waving enthusiastically as they approached, and noticed all three of them were wearing matching, sophisticated, if somewhat old fashioned clothing.  They drew closer, and Harry sighed briefly in relief that here was someone who could help him make his train.  He was also relieved to see that they weren’t wearing their robes either.

 

“Hello there.” Harry returned, glancing once back in the direction the red-headed group had gone, but he could not find them anywhere on the platforms.  By this point the well-dressed wizarding family had stopped just in front of him.  They were eyeing him with a mixture of curiosity and mild distaste at his shabby clothing.  Not that that sort of thing was new to Harry; he felt a bit of distaste at his hand-me-down outfits too, from time to time.

 

“This is the boy I mentioned, from Madam Malkins’.” The blonde kid told his father, and the woman Harry guessed was his mother.

 

“The one who was raised by muggles?”  His father’s voice was haughty yet soft spoken.  This was a man who was assured of his own importance; not the sort Harry usually liked.

 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Harry agreed then glanced back towards the platforms once again.  “I realized, I never asked your name.” he said, turning back to the boy.

 

“You should have introduced yourself, Draco.” The older man admonished his son, every word spoken carefully.

 

“Remember your manners.” The woman spoke at last.  Harry found her a bit more pleasant.  It was obvious she cared for her son, and made Harry wonder what his own mother had been like.

 

“Sorry.” Draco looked a bit chagrined, but quickly stepped forward, and offered a hand.  “Draco Malfoy.” He said after a moment, “My father and mother, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.” He added, nodding to his parents, who nodded in turn.  Harry had to admit that they were quite polite.

 

“H’Harr…”  he paused, remembering the reactions of the patrons in the Leaky Cauldron when they’d learned who he was, but he took a deep breath and continued on.  “Harry Potter.” He finished in a softer voice.  As he’d expected, all three of them looked momentarily startled, obviously recognizing his name.

 

“So this is Potter!” Lucius said, his tone taking on a note of wonder and something else, Harry wasn’t certain.  “The boy who lived.”  Draco’s eyes looked about ready to pop from his head, and Harry felt his face flushing heatedly.  “I see now, why you’d know so little of our ways.” The older man continued, “I’m sorry for what happened to your parents.”

 

“Draco, Lucius, perhaps we should get moving, the train leaves shortly.” Narcissa reminded them, and Harry noticed she’d reached over to close Draco’s gaping mouth, leaving him looking slightly less stunned.

 

“I don’t know how to –”  Harry stammered, glancing back in the direction the red-haired group had gone.

 

“Of course, it’s your first time.  Never been on the platform before.” Narcissa surmised.  “We’ll show you the right of it.” She assured him, sharing a meaningful glance with her husband, who seemed pleased by something.

 

“That’d be great.” Harry agreed, his relief returning and causing him to smile.  Narcissa put a hand on his shoulder, and steered him towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

 

“It’s really quite simple.” She explained, her bearing and tone putting him quickly at ease.  “You simply walk straight at the barrier.” She continued in a soft almost conspiratorial tone.  “You’ll pass right through it onto the platform, easy as cake.  There’s no reason to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll do fine, you’re a natural born wizard, after all.”

 

He’d been quite nervous, but she seemed calm and confident enough, which helped him steady himself, and try to do exactly as she’d suggested.  He felt a twinge of panic at the last second, worried that he’d crash into the barrier and jostle his owl in her cage.  He held his breath, and blinked in the instant he would have hit the barrier with the front of his cart.  When his eyes opened, he was through, and he gasped at the bright red engine before him.  He quickly glanced back, and where the barrier should have been, was a wrought iron archway with the words _Platform Nine and Three Quarters_ gilded at the top of the arch.

 

He laughed briefly at the wonder of it, and a few moments later Draco emerged, his awe and confusion from learning Harry’s name replaced by a look of determination.  He smiled when he saw Harry.  “Best hurry.” He said after a moment, as his mother then father emerged through the archway.

 

“Alright.” Harry agreed.  The conductor was already calling for ‘all aboard’ and Harry certainly didn’t want to be left behind.  “Where’s your trunk, and things?” Harry asked Draco as they approached one of the cars.

 

“Dobby already took them onto the train.  He’d get all fussy and cry if we didn’t let him.”

 

Draco led the way enthusiastically as they looked for a car.  The train was packed, with people leaning out of windows waving goodbye, though there were still a few minutes left before the train was scheduled to leave.  Together they found a compartment near the end that hadn’t yet been claimed, and Draco hopped aboard to check on it, while Harry unstrapped his trunk, and started trying to lift it up the steps.

 

“Want a hand?”  Harry looked to see one of the red-heads he’d spotted earlier.

 

“Yes please.” He answered with some relief.

 

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” he called to another boy, who looked just like him, with the same face and everything.  Obviously twins.  With their help, they got the trunk into the empty compartment, leaving Harry to wonder where Draco had wandered off to.

 

He thanked them, and wiped some of the sweat from his brow, pushing his hair out of his face in the process.  Apparently, the motion gave the two boys a glimpse of his distinctive scar.

 

“Blimey,” said one of the twins, “Are you –?”  “He _is_ ,” said his brother, “Aren’t you?” He asked Harry.

 

“What?” he should have been getting used to this sort of reaction, but it was still a bit overwhelming to him.

 

“ _Harry Potter!_ ” they said together.

 

“Of course he is.” Draco said, coming back into the compartment from somewhere further up the train.  While he’d been away, he’d evidently changed into his robes.  “Who are you?” he added, glancing at them, a small sneer forming on his face as he took in their clothes, almost as shabby as Harry’s.  “Let me guess; red hair, and hand-me-down clothes?  You must be Weasleys.”

 

“That we are, blondie.” They chorused, smiling, and quickly stepped off the train back onto the platform, not the least bit perturbed by Draco’s snide tone, or expression.

 

Harry scowled, a bit irritated at Draco’s rudeness, and his expression didn’t escape his companion’s notice.

 

“They’re not friends of yours, are they?” He asked after a moment.

 

Harry shook his head, but quickly explained, “They were friendly, and they helped me get my trunk into the car.”

 

“Oh, sorry…” Draco shrugged, though as before he didn’t really look or sound truly sorry.

 

Harry sat down, out of sight of the window, as the twins’ voices drifted to them from just outside.  “Hey, Mom, guess what?”  “Guess who we just met on the train?”

 

“Who?” came the reply, the voice sounded like the same woman Harry had heard mention ‘muggles’ back in the station.

 

“ _Harry Potter_!” They chorused in unison.

 

Draco snorted a little, “You’d think they’d never met someone famous before.” He muttered, though Harry sent him a look, and he remembered his manners.  “I take it you don’t like getting gawked at?”  Never mind that he’d done a little gawking when he’d learned Harry’s identity just minutes earlier.

 

“Not really, no.” Harry admitted.

 

He heard a young girl’s voice drift through the window, “Mom, oh please…”

 

“Ginny, the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo.”  Came the twins’ mother’s voice, mirroring Draco’s statement of only moments before.  Harry wished the train would move already, closing his eyes and thinking about it like he had on a few previous occasions where he’d made something magical happen without realizing it.

 

“Is he really, Fred?  How do you know?” the woman continued.

 

“Asked him.”  “Saw his scar.”  “It’s really there – like lightning.”

 

“Poor dear, I hope he wasn’t alone.”  The mother replied.

 

“Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?” One of the twins responded.

 

“I forbid you to ask him, Fred.” His mother told him sternly, “No, don’t you dare.  As though he needs to be reminded of that on his first day at school.”

 

“Do you know any games?” Draco interrupted Harry’s eavesdropping on the family outside.  “I don’t suppose you do.” He continued without waiting for Harry’s reply.  “At least not wizard games.”

 

“How are wizard games different?” Harry found himself asking.

 

“Well, muggles don’t use brooms, so they can’t play quidditch.  But I meant something more like chess.”  He’d pulled a small box from his trunk on the rack above the seat, though Harry didn’t remember seeing it there just a moment before.  It turned out, the box folded out into a chess board, with little pewter figures intricately carved into chess pieces.

 

“I know how to play chess.” Harry smiled, grateful that he was familiar with _something_ wizards did.

 

“Bet you’ve never played _wizards_ chess.” Draco continued, smirking.  “I’ll teach you.  The rules are probably the same, but the pieces are enchanted.  I just got this set for my birthday.”  He started to set out the chess board, though Harry was quite astonished to discover the little pieces were finding their own places on the board, moving around like miniature people, and even calling up questions to Draco and Harry.

 

Before long they were playing together, and Harry forgot all about the red-headed family back on the platform.  He barely noticed when the train started moving, he was so engaged in the game.  They’d both made several moves, and Harry had already figured out that Draco was understandably more practiced at this than he was, when the door to their compartment slid open and another red-head, closer to Harry’s age, poked his head in.

 

“Anyone sitting there?” he gestured to the seat across from Harry and Draco.  “Everywhere else is full.” He explained.

 

“Sorry.” Draco said, almost automatically.  “We’ve already claimed this compartment.”  The boy scowled, and might have said more, but seemed to change his mind and retreated back into the hallway.

 

“Draco,” Harry began, scowling in his own turn, “he’s got to sit somewhere doesn’t he?  This compartment can hold more than two.”  Harry felt a bad for these red-heads.  He was quite accustomed to getting all this clothes second hand from his cousin, Dudley, who was quite a bit larger than him, despite being fairly close in age.  He’d also never much cared for people who picked on others just because they were less well-off.

 

Draco blinked at him a few times, and glanced around, as if searching for an answer.  Harry wasn’t certain why he was being so bold with his new friend.  Maybe it was the knowledge that he was leaving behind his life with the Dursleys, even if only for the next nine months.  Becoming a wizard was turning out to be quite liberating.

 

“Father says we don’t want to be associating with _their_ sort.” Draco finally explained.

 

“What sort is that?” Harry blinked.

 

“Well uh…” he paused again, his brow contracting as he fought to put together the right words, “Didn’t you see his red hair, and the state of his clothes?” he waited for Harry’s nod, then continued a bit more briskly, “He’s obviously a Weasley like those other boys.”

 

“Okay.” But Harry wanted a little more, “What does that mean?”

 

“It means that… well…” again he stuttered, and glanced around, buying some more time to formulate his response, “The Weasleys are a wizarding family.”  He began, then very quickly clarified, “But they’re not like the Malfoys, or the Blacks.  They’re…”

 

 _“Poor?”_ Harry guessed, as Draco’s silence had begun to stretch.  He’d been looked down on for the state of his own clothes often enough, even though the Dursleys spoiled their son absolutely rotten.  Harry himself had never gotten anything new, if it could be passed down to him from Dudley.

 

“Well, they are that, but… they’re also not very good wizards, and Father says there’s a Weasley in the Ministry who’s a total buffoon, and always going on about the muggles.  He says they have no pride in their heritage, and give the rest of us a bad name.”

 

“You know, I never had any money until I found out I was a wizard.  If my Uncle Vernon knew about all the money I’ve got in Gringotts he’d no doubt try to find a way to take it from me.”

 

“Oh.” Malfoy once more looked sheepish.  “I didn’t know.  It must have been rotten, being raised by muggles.  I can’t imagine how you survived it.  But I guess you’ve survived worse, right?”

 

“I suppose you’re right, though I don’t really remember Voldemort at all.”

 

Draco gasped, and suddenly looked several shades paler than usual.

 

“What?” Harry regarded him, perplexed.

 

“You said _His_ name.” Draco seemed to be both impressed and a little wary of him for it.  “Even Father doesn’t say _His_ name.”

 

“Oh, well it’s not like I’m trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name,” Harry explained, “I just never knew you shouldn’t.  I’ve got loads to learn, I feel like I’m already way behind.  I bet I’m the worst in the class.”

 

“You’ll be brilliant.” Draco assured him, “We’ll both get into Slytherin.  Father says all the best witches and wizards get into Slytherin, and you’ll be one of the greatest wizards of all time, you’ll see.”

 

Harry smiled, but then almost jumped when the door slid open again.  “Hey Harry.”  One of the twins from before beamed at them both, while the other gave Draco a snide look.  “Have you seen another red-head, like a smaller version of us.”  Said the second twin.  “But much less pretty?”  Finished the first.

 

“Yeah, he was in here just a minute ago, but he went off, I don’t know where.”  Draco didn’t say anything this time.

 

“If you see him, tell him Fred and George went down the middle of the train, Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”  They both turned to regard Draco, “Nice chess set.”  The second twin told him.

 

“Oh, shove off.”  The blonde muttered.

 

The same boy leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial tone to Harry, though loud enough for Draco to overhear.  “I’d try queen to D-Four if I were you, might check mate him in a few moves that way.”

 

“Hey, this is our game, now shove off!”  Draco looked even more disgruntled now, and more than a little irritated at the interruptions.  The twins ducked out and slid the door shut, their laughter echoing back through the hall.

 

“Guess they don’t seem to like you much either.” Harry said, though he had to work hard to hide his smirk at the twins’ parting shots.

 

“You’re not gonna be mad at me if I’m rude to _them_ are you?” Draco queried, sitting back down and regarding the chess pieces once more.

 

“I suppose if they started it…” Harry shrugged.

 

It was a little past noon, judging by the sunlight out the windows, when a clattering noise just in the hall interrupted their game.  The door to their compartment was slid back by a friendly blonde witch pushing a cart laden with snacks and sweets of all variety.  She smiled as she looked in on the two of them, “Anything off the cart, dears?” she asked.

 

Harry jumped to his feet, his stomach reminding him in that moment that he hadn’t eaten breakfast.  Draco stood as well, and although he didn’t look quite as eager, he was of course still very interested.  Harry was the first in the corridor, and started examining everything that was on the cart, most of it he’d never heard of before, and it sounded and smelled incredibly exotic to his senses.

 

When he’d lived with the Dursley’s he’d never had money for candy, and now that he had pockets full of coins, he wanted to buy as much as he could.  The unfamiliarity of these snacks slowed him down enough that Draco had already selected several items before Harry decided he couldn’t limit himself to just a few.  He bought one of every item on the cart, and carried his armload back inside as Draco was settling into his seat with his own snacks

 

After spreading his treats out on either side of him, Harry started with a healthy bite of a pumpkin pasty.  They enjoyed their snacks and their game of chess for a while longer, as the countryside sped past them out the windows.  They were both so absorbed that they rather lost track of time.

 

They were nearly finished with one game, a game in which Harry was losing badly, despite the Weasley twins’ suggested move.  More than half his pieces lay in defeated moaning heaps on Draco’s edge of the game board.  There were still a few possible moves left, however, when there came a knock at the door, followed by a dark-haired boy ducking his head inside, “Sorry,” he began, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

 

“A toad?  Why would we have seen a toad?” Draco had put on an exasperated expression.

 

“I’ve lost him!” wailed the boy, “He keeps getting away from me!”

 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Harry quickly reassured him, feeling badly for his plight, even if Draco didn’t seem interested in the least.

 

“Well, if you see him…” he muttered, as he turned to leave.

 

“Can you imagine; a toad?” Draco began, almost before their visitor was out of ear shot.  “Father said I had more important things to think about at school than looking after a pet, maybe my second year I’ll bring my dragon.”

 

Harry blinked, and couldn’t hold back the astonished look Draco’s comment was no doubt calculated to elicit.  “You have a pet dragon?”

 

Draco shrugged.  “It’s not a real dragon; it’s a komodo dragon, just a big lizard really.” He shrugged again, but also grinned, happy to have surprised Harry, even if only briefly.

 

Draco had just taken his next move in their chess game when the door opened yet again.  The boy from before was visible in the hall, but it was a girl accompanying him who stood in the doorway.  She had brown hair which spilled about her face in a bushy mass.  “Has anyone seen a toad?  Neville’s lost one.” She asked in an authoritative voice.

 

“I told him before, we haven’t seen his toad.” Draco said rudely, but the girl wasn’t really paying attention, she was looking at the chess board, where Harry’s knight was crying in its small voice to be ‘let back into the action’.

 

“Is that wizard’s chess?” she asked after a moment, and sat down to get a closer look.  “I’ve read all about it, but I’ve never seen a set before, nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

 

She spoke quickly, running her sentences together, and not giving Draco a chance to get a word in, and it appeared from his expression that he had very mixed feelings about some of the things she’d said.  Harry was starting to suspect that Draco just didn’t like anyone.

 

“I’m Harry Potter.” Harry introduced himself quickly.  He had a bad feeling about what was going to happen when Draco got a chance to speak.

 

“I’m…” Draco began.

 

“Are you really?” Hermione’s face lit up and she gave him a toothsome smile.  “I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in _“Modern Magical History”_ and _“The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts”_ and _“Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century”_.”

 

“Am… I?” Harry stuttered, a bit overwhelmed by this girl who read so much.

 

“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me.”  She paused to take a breath, and Draco tried to interject.

 

“We don’t…”

 

“Do either of you know what house you’ll be in?  I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad…”

 

“Gryffindor?!” Draco snorted, and Hermione finally turned to regard him.  “I’ll just bet you’ll be in Gryffindor, we’re both going to be in Slytherin, of course.  Everyone in my family has been in Slytherin.”

 

“Slytherin?”  Hermione looked a bit taken aback.  “I suppose if you want to be, but I’ve heard some nasty things about Slytherin, to be perfectly honest, not that I necessarily believe everything I’ve read about it, it can’t _all_ be true, if it were really so bad, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t have done away with the house ages ago, anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad.”

 

She left, and Harry regarded his new friend for a long moment.  He looked very different from the boy he’d been starting to get to know.  There was something almost sinister about his expression as he scowled at the door through which their latest acquaintance had departed through.  “Draco.” Harry began, when the silence started to stretch.  “Are you all right?”

 

Draco shook his head as if to clear it, then gave Harry a reassuring smile.  “I’m fine; I just hope that one doesn’t end up in the same house as us.  Father warned me about her sort.  It’s almost criminal, letting in people who were brought up by…”  he stopped, and his face turned a rather unattractive shade of red.  “Well, you know what it was like, not knowing anything about our ways until you got your letter.  It’ll be worse for her, her parents aren’t even magic.”

 

Harry grimaced, not liking the reminder, “She seems to be doing alright.” He muttered, “Did you believe that part about already knowing the course books by heart?”

 

Draco shrugged, “It’s possible, but I bet she was just bragging.”

 

“What’s so bad about Gryffindor?” Harry asked, after considering for a few moments.

 

“Gryffindor is full of goody-two-shoes, and pansies.” Draco said, as if quoting someone he admired, “Slytherin’s where you want to be, all the greatest witches and wizards were in Slytherin.”

 

“I think you’ve said that already.  What exactly are Gryffindor and Slytherin and what was that other one?”

 

“Oh that’s right, you wouldn’t know.”  Draco seemed to be returning to his normal self.  “See, Hogwarts was founded centuries ago by four great wizards named Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff.”  Draco warmed quickly to his topic, as he straightened in his seat, his inflections reminded Harry a little of how his father had talked back at the station, “Salazar Slytherin wanted to teach only the best witches and wizards, and that meant people who were already raised in our traditions.  The others disagreed on certain things, Gryffindor wanted to train the bravest and noblest wizards, while Ravenclaw wanted to train all the brightest and most intelligent, and Hufflepuff wanted to teach everyone else, or something rubbish like that.  They couldn’t find a compromise, so instead, each formed their own house.  When new students go to the school their first year they’re sorted into the house best suited to them.  Since you and I will be very powerful wizards someday, I’m sure we’ll both get into Slytherin.”

 

“I’ll try, but I don’t even know how we get into the houses, do you?”

 

Draco shook his head, “I don’t know the specifics.” He admitted, “But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

 

“What was that she said about ‘nasty stuff’ to do with Slytherin, though?” Harry asked, thinking it all over.

 

“Oh… well you see, just because a wizard is great, doesn’t always mean he’s good.  Slytherin’s got sort of an undeserved bad reputation because some of the greatest _dark_ wizards also came from there.”

 

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Harry agreed.  “But, if you’re going to be in Slytherin, I think I’d want to be too; if that is really the best place to learn to be a great wizard.  But… do you think they’d accept me?  You said Salazar Slytherin only wanted to teach people who were brought up as wizards?”

 

Draco thought about it for only a moment before answering, “Well, yes you were raised by muggles, but your parents were both magic, so it’s different.  You’re famous afterall, so even if you’ve got a little catching up to do, you’re still perfect for Slytherin.”

 

They discussed the houses, and the history of the school for a little while, but once again the door slid open, and new faces appeared to look in on them.  “Oh, hello Draco.” Said the first large beefy boy, who shared similar rugged traits with his companion, “They’ve been saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter is back here somewhere, want to come with us to see him?”

 

“Hello.” Draco smiled at them, and stood, then gestured to Harry.  “These are my friends, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, I’ve known them since we were little – their families are friends with mine.”  The two newcomers blinked, and looked a little confused.  “Crabbe, Goyle.”  Draco stood a little straighter, and finished with a dramatic flourish.  “This is my good friend, Harry Potter!”

 

His announcement had the intended effect of awing and flabbergasting the two of them, and Draco wasted no time in taking advantage of their discomfiture.  “What’s wrong with you two?” he asked in mock surprise, “You said you were looking for him, right?  Well you should have come straight to me, I could have introduced you whenever you liked.”

 

Harry didn’t care for people gawking at him, but the way Draco was making a bit of a show of this, definitely amused him.  “We were just finishing our game of wizards chess.” Harry said, getting into his ‘role’ as Draco’s “good friend” and acting as casually as possible, as if he and Draco were used to doing this sort of thing all the time.

 

“Oh, I’m no good at chess.” Goyle admitted, glancing behind him at Crabbe, who shook his head to indicate he wasn’t good at it either.

 

“I know that.” Draco rolled his eyes, “That’s why I play with Harry, and don’t usually invite you two around for chess.”

 

“Right.” Crabbe admitted, shrugging.  “Well uh… good luck with that, hope you beat him at least once, Potter.”  They departed, chatting animatedly to each other, and Draco barely contained himself as they drew out of earshot.  Finally, he burst out laughing, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh with him.

 

“That was wicked brilliant!” Harry complimented, as Draco wheezed, catching his breath.  “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He admitted.

 

“You were perfect, thanks for that.” Draco wiped a tear from his eye, still shaking with his mirth, though he’d mostly gotten it back under control.

 

“I hope they don’t feel too bad.” Harry continued, still chortling.

 

“They’ll be fine, but the looks on their faces… were _fantastic_.” Draco waved away Harry’s concern, “They’re made of tough stuff, like all of their families.  They often look after me; they’re handy in rough spots, even if they aren’t the brightest.”

 

“I think I know the type, though usually I don’t get along well with that sort.”

 

“Well, now that you’ve got me, I can help you get along with just about any sort.  We Malfoys are good at taking charge, and seeing things get done.  Father’s the head Hogwarts Governor.”

 

“Hogwarts Governor?” Harry asked; not certain what that entailed.

 

“Oh, that means he helps make decisions regarding how the school is run.  Though the headmaster makes most the decisions, the governors can vote to overrule his decisions, or even ask him to step down.”

 

“Sounds important, and I guess that helps the school run more smoothly?”

 

“Absolutely.  Dumbledore has accomplished some great things, but he can be a bit scatter-brained at times.  He’s pretty old afterall.”  Draco paused as they heard footsteps again in the corridor.

 

The door slid open, and there was Hermione back for a second round.  “I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there, you’d better put your chess set away, you wouldn’t want to lose the pieces, if I had a set like that I wouldn’t want to lose pieces.”

 

“We don’t need you to tell us that.” Draco scowled at her, his mood darkening the moment she’d come in.

 

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly; racing up and down the corridors.” She sniffed, and quickly ducked back into the corridor, where she could be heard saying to someone else, “Oh hello, um, you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?”

 

Harry helped Draco put the chess pieces away, even though they hadn’t quite finished their game.  They both knew Harry would have lost, but he’d still have liked to have played to the last move.

 

Just as they finished a loud voice echoed along the length of the train, “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time.  Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

 

Draco stowed his chess set back in his trunk, then moved to the door of their compartment as the train finally slowed to a stop.  He paused in the doorway, and motioned for Harry to wait for a moment.  “Corridor’s crowded; no reason to go bumping elbows with everyone.” He muttered.

 

“There you are!” Draco had espied his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and waved them over.  “Come on, you two make a path for us.”  They nodded, and moved out, and Draco tugged Harry along with him behind the larger boys following in their wake.  In no time they were on the platform.  With the lights inside the train behind them it was pitch black on the platform at first, though Harry’s eyes quickly began to adjust to the gloom.

 

“Any more firs’ years?  Mind yer step, now!  Firs’ years follow me!”  Harry beamed as he observed Hagrid’s form carrying a lantern in his outstretched hand which made him incredibly easy to spot even over the tallest students in the milling crowd.

 

“That’s Hagrid.” Harry motioned to Draco.  “C’mon, he’s calling for us to go that way.”  They pushed their way towards Hagrid’s bobbing lantern.

 

“There yer are ‘Arry!” Hagrid smiled then turned back to the rest of the gathered first year students.  “Ever’one here?  Then follow me!” he called, before leading them along a steep narrow path away from the platform.

 

The students gasped and ‘ooohed’ in a wave as they rounded a bend in the path and caught sight of the castle perched near the top of a small mountain across from a mirror black lake reflecting the lights from the stars and the castle windows.

 

They found a fleet of boats floating at the shore of the lake, and quickly got themselves sorted, four to a boat, though Hagrid had a bigger boat all to himself.   Once they were all situated, Hagrid called out “Forward!” and the boats began to move, cutting across the water smoothly, as if being pulled by invisible ropes.  They ducked as the boats passed through a curtain of ivy hiding a low arched passage into the stone cliff face.  After a short time in the dark they came to a harbor, of sorts, and disembarked onto a beach of smoothly worn pebbles somewhere beneath the castle.  Ahead of them at the top of a wide stone staircase, were a great pair of wooden doors flanked by rows of torches on either side providing light throughout the cavern.

 

After leaving the boats, Hagrid led them up the steep stone steps carved right into the bedrock, and up to the door several stories above the surface of the lake, where he knocked three times on the sturdy wood, the sound echoing around them in the vast chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on this one for quite some time, and while I don’t read a lot of Harry Potter fan fiction, I understand this particular concept has been done before. However, the ideas wouldn’t leave me alone, and I’m sure my story will have its own merit and uniqueness. I think it’s turning out to have potential.
> 
> So please, let me know what you think. I apologize if this first chapter is a bit slow, but if you bear with me I have some interesting things planned; I’m not sure if I changed enough, but there’s more to come.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	3. Chapter 2 – Sorting Hats, Houses, and Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets sorted into his new house, and gets started at this new school, including making some new friends, and meeting some new enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence (yet).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Author’s Note: I originally did not include the full sorting song in this chapter because I did not want to repeat large sections of text verbatim from Rowling’s novel. However, after writing songs for Years 2 and 3, this chapter felt incomplete with merely a passing mention of the contents of the song. I’m adding it back in, and if you do not wish to read it, feel free to skip it.
> 
> Cheers!

When the massive doors opened – creaking only a little on well-maintained hinges – the first thing they saw was a witch with lightly graying black hair, wearing emerald-green robes of a soft, satiny material, with a pointed hat of the same color and texture.  She wore a stern expression as she regarded the assembled first year students, and Harry immediately was struck by the impression that here was a woman he would not like to cross.

 

Hagrid cleared his throat and gestured to Harry and the others behind him, “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.” He told her.

 

“Thank you, Hagrid.  I will take them from here.” She nodded to him, and turned her full attention to the new students.  Hagrid opened the doors the rest of the way, and Harry was treated to his first sight of the entrance hall.  It was a vast chamber lit with torches all along the walls.  Harry couldn’t quite make out the ceiling, it was so high.

 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the hall, and toward another large doorway through which Harry could hear the sound of hundreds of voices, muffled through the thick stone walls.  They were led into a waiting room just next to the larger doors.  There was barely enough space to contain them all, and Harry had to stand very still to avoid bumping his closest neighbors with his elbows.

 

McGonagall then turned to address them, and her no nonsense expression was enough to catch Harry’s attention and quiet the room before her, “Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses.”  She went on to explain about the houses Draco had described to him earlier, and Harry nodded as he recognized the names.  But while Draco had tried to explain to him some of what the students in each house were like, McGonagall simply explained how their houses were to be like their family, and how their ‘triumphs and failures’ would be shared with the whole house.  Harry wasn’t sure he liked the idea that his house as a whole could be punished by loss of ‘points’ on his account.

 

When she was finished, McGonagall suggested that they use the time while they were waiting to straighten up a bit.  She then left them to stand quietly, after promising to return for them shortly.  Harry immediately attempted, in vain, to flatten his unruly hair.

 

The moment she was gone, people began whispering about how they would be sorted.  Harry tried to listen carefully in case anyone knew more than he and Draco, but everyone seemed as in the dark as they were.  Listening to the nervous and almost panicked chatter, was making Harry feel a bit panicked himself.  Someone mentioned doing some sort of test, and Harry’s heart sank.  He wasn’t prepared for anything like that.  How was he supposed to have known that he would be expected to do… whatever it was they were expected to do…? And it didn’t help his confidence that he would evidently be doing it in front of the whole school, either!

 

He was startled from his rapidly escalating imaginings when several people behind him screamed.  He jumped and whirled around to see what looked like… ghosts.  He had no other word for them.  They were pale-white and translucent, and glowed softly as they glided across the room, seeming to be arguing between themselves.

 

It took the ghosts a moment before they seemed to even notice the terrified and nerve-wracked children crowding back to give them room.  “I say, what are you all doing here?” the first one said.  He appeared to be wearing a doublet and tights, with a ruff and lace, all in the same pale colorless texture as the rest of him.

 

When no one answered him, the second ghost – a bit larger and wearing a monk’s habit – spoke, “New students!” he exclaimed, as he smiled at all of them, “About to be Sorted, I suppose.”  After a few people nodded nervously, he continued, “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!  My old house, you know.”

 

“Move along now,” The sharp voice of Professor McGonagall cut through the tense quiet.  “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

 

Once the ghosts were gone she continued addressing the students, “Now, form a line, and follow me.”  It took some doing, but they eventually formed a mostly orderly line behind McGonagall as she led them back into the entry and through the double doors into the hall, where the rest of the school was already assembled.

 

The great hall was lit by thousands of candles which hovered in the air between four long tables and the arched ceiling, though after a second glance, Harry realized the ceiling didn’t look much like a ceiling, but almost looked as if it were made of glass, and he could see through to the night sky beyond.  He heard someone in the line behind him saying something about it being bewitched.  They passed down the middle of the hall, between the four tables, which were laid out with golden plates and goblets in front of the older students already seated.

 

They were brought to the front of the hall, where the teachers were sitting on a raised platform at their own table.  Harry and the others were turned to face the rest of the students, the teachers behind them.  Harry looked back at hundreds of pairs of eyes blinking at them, more than a few of them ghosts, hovering amid the students.

 

McGonagall placed a stool in the space immediately in front of them and set a shabby battered pointed wizard’s hat on top.  Harry wondered if maybe they were supposed to pull a rabbit out of the hat, but he didn’t say anything.  After several long moments of absolute quiet, the hat shifted by itself, and a sort of face in the rumpled surface began to move.  The hat was singing…

 

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

 

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

 

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

 

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

 

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

 

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

 

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

 

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

 

The room was immediately drowned in applause the moment the hat finished its song.  It bowed to each of the four tables – a bit of a bob of the pointed tip – then ceased moving altogether.

 

“So… you just try the hat on?” Draco whispered.

 

“I guess so.” Harry whispered back.  It seemed to Harry that Draco was feeling just as perplexed and miffed as he himself was, annoyed that he’d gotten himself worked up over something not so intimidating after all.

 

McGonagall soon stepped in front of them, and unrolled a very long scroll of parchment.  “When I call your name, you will put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She paused briefly, then called the name, “Abbott, Hannah!”

 

The girl who was called forward, sat on the stool and McGonagall lowered the hat onto her head, after only a moment the Sorting Hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!” and the table to Harry’s far right cheered most enthusiastically as McGonagall directed Hannah to join them.  The girl strolled happily to sit with her new housemates under a large yellow and black banner emblazoned with a badger.

 

McGonagall continued to call out names in alphabetical order.  Harry noticed that sometimes the hat shouted out the name of a house almost immediately as it came to rest on a student’s head, and on other occasions it took a bit of time before making its announcement.  During these longer intervals he could see its mouth moving, but couldn’t make out any words when it did.

 

He watched as Hermione Granger – the bossy girl from the train – was sorted into Gryffindor, just as she’d hoped, along with Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, though the hat took a long time deciding for him.

 

Soon after that, McGonagall called out, “Malfoy, Draco!”  And his new friend gave him a grin and moved to take his place on the stool.

 

The hat had only barely touched his hair before it screamed, “Slytherin!”

 

There were only about a dozen first years left after Draco joined his friends Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table just to Harry’s right.  Harry was becoming more and more nervous as he waited, and nearly jumped, when the Professor finally called out, “Potter, Harry!”  And, to make matters worse, the hall was quickly filled with echoing whispers before he’d even started toward the stool.

 

“ _Potter_ , did she say?”  “ _The_ Harry Potter?”  “Is that him?”  “Told you it was Potter.”  “Potter, as in… The-Boy-Who-Lived?”

 

Everyone seemed to be craning to get a look at him, and it was with some relief that the hat dropped over his head, half covering his eyes.

 

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear; the voice of the sorting hat muttering, “Difficult.  Very difficult.  Plenty of courage, I see.  Not a bad mind either.  There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?”

 

 _Draco’s in Slytherin._   Harry thought to himself.  Draco was the only friend he’d made here who was close to his age, and he hoped somehow that he could stick with him a little longer, but he really didn’t know where he wanted to be sorted.  With his luck, he wouldn’t get sorted at all, and McGonagall would take the hat off him – after he’d sat there in silence forever – and tell him there’d been a mistake and he needed to get back on the train.

 

“The Hufflepuffs would love to have you.” The hat continued.  “Your heart knows compassion, and you’ve been marked by a love few will experience.”  Harry blinked into the darkness inside the hat, wondering what exactly _that_ meant, but before he could dwell on the ramifications of being sorted into Hufflepuff for more than a moment, the hat continued, “You’re crafty, and intelligent too, and Ravenclaw values that, though perhaps your mind doesn’t quite have the set for them.  It’s all here in your head, you see, and I can read you like a book.  You have a capacity to do great things, and with strong ambition, Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.  Hmm, you’d also do well in Gryffindor.  You may not feel brave now, but your courage is there, waiting for you to find it.”  Harry felt a momentary twinge.  Was he going to be in Gryffindor?  It didn’t sound too bad, but Draco didn’t seem to think much of the people there.  Then again, he’d only known Draco a short time, and didn’t entirely agree with all of his opinions either.  “So if you don’t object…” the Sorting Hat said at last.  “SLYTHERIN!”

 

The hat shouted the last word so that all in the great hall heard.  Harry quickly pulled it off his head and started a bit unsteadily towards the Slytherin table, where Draco waited, beaming at him.  There was quite a commotion for a while, everyone chattering at once and everyone cheering, especially the students of his new house.  Someone was yelling, “Hey, we’ve got Potter!  We’ve got Potter!”

 

Harry could see the High Table properly now, and he quickly caught Hagrid’s eye.  The big man had an odd uncertain expression, but he gave Harry a reassuring smile just the same.  At the center of the table was an old man with a long silver beard, whom Harry guessed – from everything he’d seen and heard – was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.  He was regarding Harry curiously, as if something rather unexpected had occurred.  Next, Harry spotted Professor Quirrell toward the left, sporting a rather odd purple turban.  They’d met briefly at the Leaky Cauldron a month before.  Like the others, he was looking at Harry with a very unusual expression.  Harry’s gaze was drawn then to the man next to him, a tall thin man with black robes, and equally black hair, who looked down at Harry from behind a long thin nose.  His, was the most striking expression of all the teachers, a mixture of surprise and rather pointed distaste, much like the look Lucius had given his shabby clothes in King’s Cross.

 

Once the commotion over Harry’s placement died down, the hat resumed sorting the last few students.  Harry noted the youngest Weasley boy was sorted into Gryffindor, where he joined his brothers – the twins – at the table nearest the far wall from the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.  The last student, Blaise Zabini, was made a Slytherin, and McGonagall took the scroll, hat, and stool away.

 

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet and stood at a podium just in front of the teacher’s long table.  He spread his arms wide and grinned at them as if seeing them here pleased him more than anything in the world.  “Welcome!” he began, in a kindly soft voice, which somehow still carried easily throughout the hall.  “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!  Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.  And here they are:  Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

 

“Thank you!”  He sat back down, and everyone broke into applause and cheers again.  Harry fought the urge to laugh, noting that no one else was laughing.

 

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked Draco beside him.

 

“Well, he _is_ getting a little old.” It wasn’t Draco who answered, but an older girl who sat close by.  Harry recognized her as the voice who’d shouted ‘Hey, we’ve got Potter!’ after he’d been sorted.

 

“He’s one of the greatest wizards in the world, but that was a long time ago.” She continued.  “It was said that even You-Know-Who feared him.”

 

Harry turned to regard the older girl.  She smiled and offered a hand across the table, “Farley.  Gemma Farley, Slytherin Prefect.” She introduced herself.  “It’s so wonderful to have you, Potter.  Slytherin will do even better this year than we did last year, with _you_ on our side.”

 

Harry was about to answer, when he realized the tables were somehow filled with food of all variety and description.  He hadn’t seen anyone bring it in, and he was speechless for a brief moment, but then he smiled when it occurred to him that it had probably been magic.

 

He filled up his plate with everything he wanted to try, and after taking a few bites, he remembered the question he’d been about to ask, “Um, Farley, what’s a prefect?”

 

“Prefect?” she blinked at him, but quickly answered, “Prefects are chosen in their fifth year, they receive a letter before coming to school, like I did this summer.  Basically, we look after the students in our house.  We can even assign punishments, like taking away points – but only to our own house – and detentions – which we can give to any student.

 

“So, you’re a fifth year student?” Harry continued.

 

She nodded, and resumed her own eating, and Harry decided to leave it at that.  He was quite hungry, after all.  When he was almost finished, he slowed down enough to look around the room again.  He observed Hagrid drinking heavily from his mug – looking well stuffed – and his eyes flitted past Dumbledore to Quirrell, and the black-haired, hook-nosed man next to him.  They were deep in conversation when Quirrel stood up briefly and turned to address McGonagall passing behind his seat.  In that moment, the black-haired man’s gaze shifted, and his eyes met Harry’s directly.

 

Harry felt a sudden sharp pain lance across his forehead, seeming to center on his scar.  “Ouch!” he brought his hand to his head and looked away.

 

“Something wrong?” asked Gemma.

 

“It’s nothing.” The pain fled as quickly as it had come.

 

After a moment he turned back to Gemma and asked, “Who’s that teacher next to Professor Quirrell?”

 

“You’ve met Quirrell, then?” she asked, glancing up at the teachers he’d mentioned and smiled.  “Oh, no wonder he’s nervous.  That’s Professor Snape he’s next to, he’s…”

 

But before she could finish Draco interjected, “Snape?”  His eyes followed their gaze and he smiled, “That’s right!  I wasn’t thinking about Severus being here!  He’s good friends with my father.  They went to school together.”

 

“Oh did they?  Malfoy was it?” Gemma asked him, and Draco nodded.  “Snape’s the Head of Slytherin House, and teaches Potions.  But everyone knows that what he really wants, is to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.  That’s Quirrell’s job, and if you ask me, he’s too timid for the post.  I had him my third year, and he looks even more jittery now than he did then.  Snape makes even _me_ nervous sometimes, though he usually favors us Slytherins.”

 

That gave Harry plenty to think about as the feast was wrapping up.  Soon Dumbledore once more stood at the podium, and waited for the hall to quiet.  “Ahem – just a few more words, now that we are all fed and watered.  I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

 

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.  And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.  I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

 

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term.  Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

 

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds, to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, though he quickly smothered it when he realized almost no one else was laughing.  After that, they all sang the ‘school song’ together.  Though since they were asked to choose their favorite tune, no one was at the same pace, or the same melody.  Harry remembered very little of their journey to the Slytherin house wing.  His exhaustion seemed to catch up to him with every step he took, as he followed the prefects down into the basement levels of the castle.

 

He recalled going down some stairs, and passing through a secret door before they were split up into the boys’ and girls’ dormitories.  Harry was asleep practically as he fell into bed, though he must have remembered to take off his shoes and robes at the very last.

 

* * * * *

 

If Harry had thought it was bad introducing himself to the few witches and wizards he’d met so far, it was far worse here at the school, where he didn’t even have to talk to someone before they’d mutter, and point.  The whispers followed him everywhere from the moment he left the Slytherin wing.  This proved very distracting as he was trying to find his classrooms.  The castle didn’t help either, for it was enchanted in some of the most interesting, yet also disorienting ways.  Everything was always changing, whether it was the people in the portraits moving to visit other portraits, or the stairs leading to different places at different times.

 

Classes weren’t at all what Harry expected, and he quickly discerned that learning magic was going to be anything but easy.  He had Astronomy scheduled for Monday nights, and Herbology at the greenhouses three days a week.  Other classes included: History of Magic, taught by a ghost; and Charms, taught by a gnome of a man, Professor Flitwick.  Then there was Transfiguration, with Professor McGonagall, where Harry decided his impression of her as a woman he didn’t want to cross was most definitely accurate.

 

Tuesday and Friday were Potions, with Professor Snape, and Harry wasn’t certain what he thought of that.  Even the Slytherins were wary talking about him, except for Draco, who was convinced ‘old Severus’ would be their best teacher yet.

 

When Friday morning came around, Harry and Draco were among the first to arrive for breakfast.  Harry had gotten used to the ‘morning mail’ being delivered by a swarm of owls that came through the windows all around the great hall.  But the first time it had happened it’d given him a bit of a shock.  Today he was surprised, however, when Hedwig flew down next to him and dropped a note onto his plate.

 

He quickly tore the letter open, and read it:

 

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  I want to hear all about your first week.  Send an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

 

Harry asked around for a quill – ended up borrowing one from Blaise – and quickly wrote, _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent it off with Hedwig.

 

“What does ‘doubles potions’ mean?” Draco asked no one in particular, as he scanned his class schedule for the day.

 

“Doubles with who?” one of the older students glanced at Draco’s parchment.  “Ah, Gryffindor, that means both houses share the class for your year.  Everyone gets doubles with some classes.  3rd years have Transfiguration doubles with Ravenclaw.  You’ll get the same doubles every year, most likely, those Ravenclaws aren’t very fun to compete with in Transfiguration, let me tell you…”

 

So it was with mixed feelings that Harry attended his first Doubles Potions with Gryffindor.  He’d gotten the impression at the banquet that Professor Snape didn’t like him very much.  He was about to learn just how wrong he’d been.  Snape didn’t dislike Harry, he seemed to actively _loath_ him for no reason Harry could discern.

 

It started as Snape was taking roll call.  When he got to Harry’s name, he paused, “Ah yes.” He began, speaking softly, but very precisely, “Harry Potter.  Our new… _celebrity_.”

 

Once he was finished, he paced along the cold room in the dungeons and regarded them each in turn as he talked, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making.”  Harry quickly started taking notes, wanting to prove to himself and everyone, that he had what it took to be a good wizard, whether or not he was ‘famous’.  “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.  However, for those select few…” he paused briefly, “Who possess, the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, and ensnare the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”  He paused again, “Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not, pay, attention!”  He said this last with a stern emphasis which caused Harry to glance up from taking his notes, to see Professor Snape looming over him, and scowling, his thin eyebrows drawn close over his black eyes, which left Harry feeling a bit chilled, and not just from the low temperature in the room.

 

“Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”  He asked.

 

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry responded after a moment, growing a bit uncomfortable, though he noticed the frizzy-haired Hermione Granger across the room with the other Gryffindors raising her hand high in the air.

 

“Let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?”

 

Harry glanced around the room in his uncertainty, delaying a moment to try and recall anything he’d read in his books in his month with the Dursleys before school, “I don’t know, sir.” He repeated at last.

 

Snape continued, still ignoring Hermione’s raised hand, though now she was coming off her seat in her eagerness.  “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

 

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry repeated for the third time.

 

“Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?”

 

“I think Hermione knows.” Harry added after a moment, just as Snape was turning away.

 

“Sit down!” Snape told Hermione sharply then turned back to Harry.  “For your information Potter, Asphodel and Wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death.  A Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons.  As for Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite.”  A glare was all it took to send half the room rummaging for quills to write down what he’d just said.

 

“A point will be taken from Slytherin, for your cheek, Potter.” Snape told him once the noise quieted down a bit.  Then he turned away.

 

“So much for Snape favoring Slytherin…” Harry mumbled.

 

As the class continued, they were working on a relatively simple potion, and Snape wandered the room, criticizing nearly everyone except Malfoy.  And while he tended to rant at the Gryffindors a bit more than the Slytherins, it was obvious Harry was his favorite victim.

 

For their first class they were learning how to brew a cure for boils.  Harry was at least glad that he’d been partnered with Draco, which made the class slightly more tolerable.  He felt sorry for the Gryffindor, Hermione, for Snape picked on her nearly as much as Harry.  The toadless boy from the train also seemed to earn a strong portion of the professor’s ire, though part of that may have been that the boy was so nervous he kept making mistakes.

 

“Is that the correct order for those crushed fangs to go in, Potter?” Snape asked at one point, as he passed by his cauldron yet again.

 

“Yes, sir.” Harry said immediately, with more confidence than he felt.  He was learning that it was best not to hesitate when the potions master asked him a question.

 

Draco, who’d been glancing over their recipe, reached out and snatched the cup containing their crushed snake fangs from Harry’s hand just before he’d been about to tip it into the simmering cauldron.

 

“That’s another point from Slytherin, Potter.  You really should pay better attention.  Potion making is a very _exact_ science.” He told him sharply.

 

Some of the students chuckled or snickered, particularly on the Gryffindor side of the room.  Harry had been noticing that Neville’s partner – a sandy-haired boy he remembered seeing in the line in front of him before being sorted – tended to laugh the most openly whenever Snape picked on Harry.  Usually Snape would chastise any Gryffindor who made any such noise, but not when they were laughing at Harry, it seemed.

 

“And that will earn you two points for Slytherin, Malfoy, for your timely save.” Snape finished, before sweeping away to tyrannize someone else for a while.

 

Draco looked pleased, and when Harry turned his somewhat annoyed frown toward his friend, Draco just shrugged, and gestured for them to get back to work.  After that Harry paid extra careful attention to their recipe, and found that between him and Draco they could do fairly well.

 

Harry and Draco were nearly done with their potion, when a hiss of steam and smoke filled the chamber, drawing everyone’s gaze across the room towards Neville and his partner.  Their cauldron was melting and bubbling on the table between them, and while the sandy-haired boy had leapt aside in time, Longbottom was covered in the green concoction.

 

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, as he whipped out his wand and gestured with it, causing the spilled potion to vanish.  It was too late for Neville, however, as his skin was already starting to break out in numerous painful looking boils, particularly on his hands.  “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?” their teacher intoned as he bore down on the pair, and got a close look at the boy’s injuries.  Then he turned on Neville’s partner, “Mr. Finnigan.  Why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills?  You two might be the only ones in this room actually _less_ competent than Potter.”

 

The boy – Finnigan – glared angrily at Harry as Snape instructed him to take Longbottom to the hospital wing.  Harry thought it was quite unfair, and opened his mouth to object, but Draco caught his eye and shook his head.  Harry tried harder to concentrate on his own potion making and his quiet and sporadic conversation with Draco after that.

 

Class continued pretty much the same way, though without a repeat of Neville’s disastrous mistake, of course.  Seamus Finnigan returned from taking Longbottom to the hospital wing in a truly foul mood, but it wasn’t until after the class, as Harry was complaining to Draco – who seemed as baffled as he was by Snape’s behavior – that they had their first real run-in with the sandy-haired Irish boy.

 

Finnigan didn’t look like his mood had improved at all when he deliberately bumped into Harry at the top of the stairs coming out from the dungeons.  “Ya think yer better than us, is that it Potter?” he spouted, his Irish accent giving his words an unusual emphasis.  “Figures, after You-Know-Who left ‘is mark on ya, ye’d decide to follow in ‘is footsteps, joinin’ up with them Slytherins.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry said angrily, still smarting from his treatment at Snape’s hands.  “Get out of my way.”

 

“You’re one to talk.” Draco interjected as Harry tried to push past the Irish boy.  Seamus wasn’t much bigger than Harry, but he was quick, and interposed himself in their path as Draco spoke.  “You’re just jealous that Harry Potter made it into the best house in the school.  Everyone knows Gryffindor is nothing but barbarian fools and hero pretenders.”

 

“Mind yer own business, boyo.” Seamus snapped, as Harry turned back.

 

“I can handle myself, Draco.” Harry assured his friend.  Then quickly rounded on Seamus, “If all Gryffindors spend their time looking for fights, then I’m quite glad to be a Slytherin, thank you.”

 

Seamus’ mouth opened, and his face began to turn a bit pink, but Harry didn’t stick around to find out what would happen next.  He dodged past Seamus with Draco right on his heels and continued past several other students who’d stopped to watch the emerging spectacle.

 

“That was brilliant.” Draco told him as soon as they were a respectable distance down the corridor.

 

“I guess.” Harry didn’t feel brilliant, he was just glad to be out of that situation. “He’s not going to leave it alone.” He added after a moment.  “I probably just made it worse.”

 

“We can handle _his_ sort.” Draco assured him.  “So what’re you up to this afternoon?  Wish we could go practice Quidditch or something, but first years aren’t allowed to have brooms.”

 

“I’m visiting Hagrid for tea.” Harry told him.

 

“Hagrid?  That giant Dumbledore lets be the grounds keeper?” Draco seemed a bit shocked.

 

“Yeah, that’s him, why?” Harry stopped to regard his companion, wondering at his reaction.

 

“Father says he’s an idiot, and possibly dangerous.  He says that he shouldn’t be allowed to be around children at the school, but the other governors won’t back him up on it.”

 

Harry was at a momentary loss, not expecting this turn of conversation.  He’d never had any sort of impression of Hagrid being dangerous.  “ _I_ don’t think he’s dangerous, he’s probably the _least_ dangerous person in the school.”

 

“But, my father says…”

 

“Does your father know him?” Harry interjected before Draco could finish.  “Hagrid was the one who told me I was a wizard.  _He_ took me to Diagon Alley, and helped me get everything I needed for school.  He bought me my owl, Hedwig.  He’s just a big old softie.  He’d never hurt anyone, especially the children at the school.  And Dumbledore trusts him completely.”

 

“Well he’s…” Draco was the one at a loss this time.  “He’s kind of simple though, you have to admit…?”

 

“What of it?” Harry couldn’t really refute that one.  Hagrid wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t the sharpest person he’d met either.  “Crabbe and Goyle seem a bit simple to me, and that doesn’t stop _you_ from being _their_ friend.”

 

“Oh, right.” Malfoy thought for a moment, then sighed, “Maybe you’re right, maybe father just doesn’t know him.” It almost seemed to pain him to say the words.  “Why don’t I come with you to see him, then I can tell my father what _I_ think of him.”

 

“That sounds fair.” Harry agreed, “I said I’d meet him around three.”

 

And so it was, that at a quarter to three Harry and Draco were leaving the castle, and heading down the hill in the direction of the little wood hut where Hagrid lived, just at the edge of the forbidden forest.  It was tall enough for a man of Hagrid’s stature to stand in comfortably, though from outward appearances it couldn’t have contained more than one room.

 

When Harry knocked, there was a rustle and scurrying to the door, accompanied by fierce barking and Hagrid’s voice – as stern as Harry had heard him – “ _Back_ , Fang – _back_.”  Hagrid managed to open the door a crack to see who was calling, and told Harry, “Hang on,” before disappearing again behind the door.

 

“Fang?” Draco said, paling slightly, before Hagrid opened the door, having achieved a restraining hold on the large black boarhound’s collar.

 

“Make yerselves at home.” Hagrid invited, closing the door behind them as they entered his humble abode.  It seemed smaller on the inside, the single chamber taken up mostly by a moderately-sized table and a massive bed covered in a quilt.  Hagrid released Fang once the door was securely shut, and Draco squeaked as it raced to him and began licking his face rather enthusiastically, causing the blonde boy to stumble backward into the nearest chair.

 

It seemed harmless enough, to Harry’s mind, just energetically friendly.  “This is Draco.” Harry introduced his friend, “I hope you don’t mind me bringing him along.”  Hagrid was busying himself putting rock cakes onto plates for them, and filling a large tea pot with scalding hot water.

 

“Draco, is it?” Hagrid gave him a smile, and extended a hand, “Rubeus Hagrid, nice ta see yer makin’ friends a’ready, ‘Arry.” His hand enveloped Draco’s and shook it vigorously for a moment.  When he was done, Draco examined his hand, as if checking to make sure it was still intact.

 

Draco then tried a bite of the rock cakes, the sound of his teeth crunching down was painful to Harry’s ears.  “Ow, what are these?  I could break a tooth on these things.” He muttered.

 

“Sorry, might ‘ave overcooked ‘em a bit.” Hagrid blushed sheepishly.

 

Harry pretended to enjoy his cakes, as Malfoy stuck to the tea, and they talked about various things, though mostly about Harry’s first week, and all the classes they’d had so far, finishing with an account of their first Doubles Potions with Snape.

 

“I was told Snape favors Slytherins.” Harry explained, “But he seems to hate me, and love Draco, though I can’t really figure out why.”

 

“He’s my godfather.” Draco supplied after a moment, “I’ve known him since I was little.  He’s always been like an uncle to me.”

 

“Yer godfather?!” Hagrid took another look at Draco, and seemed to suddenly realize something, “Yer Lucius’ son then, Draco Malfoy?  I didn’ make the connection, sorry ‘bout that.”

 

Draco waved it off, “I can understand why Snape likes _me_ , but I honestly have no idea why he’d hate Harry, ‘specially since he’s a Slytherin.”

 

“Yeah, I been meanin’ ter ask ya about that.”  Hagrid said, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

 

“About what?” Harry asked, perplexed, absently stroking Fang’s head.  The dog was resting his muzzle on Harry’s knee where he was drooling all over Harry’s robes.

 

“Well yer… I mean… well, ter be honest, it was a bit of a shock when you got sorted inta Slytherin.”

 

“Don’t tell me you believe all those nasty rumors too.” Draco scowled darkly at Hagrid for a moment.

 

“No, no, nothin’ like that.  It’s just… yer parents were both Gryffindors, as was Dumbledore, and meself.  Most o’ yer dad’s friends were in Gryffindor, and yer mom’s too, ‘sept fer S…” He paled a bit, and averted his gaze again, “‘Sept for one or two.” He finished, though Harry wondered what he’d been about to say before he caught himself.

 

“Well, I didn’t know.  No one told me.” Harry admitted, thinking a bit, then asked, “Hagrid, what house was Volde… I mean, You-Know-Who, in?” thinking about what Seamus Finnigan had said earlier.

 

“Tha’s just it.” Hagrid cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed.

 

“He was in Slytherin, wasn’t he?  That’s what Finnigan meant.”

 

“Just because one dark wizard was in Slytherin, doesn’t mean you’re going to be like him, just ‘cause you are too.” Draco insisted, and seemed surprised when Hagrid backed him up.

 

“He’s right, ‘Arry, it doesn’t matter what house yer in, you’ll do great, and make yer parents proud in Slytherin as easily as Gryffindor, or any other house.  The Sortin’ Hat knows its business, so don’ worry yer head none.”

 

Harry felt reassured, and was definitely in a better mood as they chatted for the better part of the afternoon.  Even Draco seemed to loosen up and enjoy Hagrid’s company after a while, though he still seemed wary of Fang’s particular brand of affection.

 

Snape’s class had unsettled him, but by the time they left Hagrid’s hut – about an hour before dark – Harry felt much more positive about his first week of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on this one for quite some time, and while I don’t read a lot of Harry Potter fan fiction, I understand this particular concept has been done before. However, the ideas wouldn’t leave me alone, and I’m sure my story will have its own merit and uniqueness. I think it’s off to a good start.
> 
> So please, let me know what you think.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	4. Chapter 3 – Monsters and Broomsticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns to fly, fights more with Finnigan, and discovers something mysterious at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, almost no violence (yet).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

Harry used his free time over the weekend to catch up on some of his assigned reading.  Draco wanted to slack off at first, but was convinced to join Harry, and they soon were actually having fun comparing notes and trying out some simple spells from Charms class.  Draco even spent some time coaching Harry on potions recipes from their first year potions book.  Greg and Vince joined in when they found them working so animatedly, but then an hour or so later Harry realized the pair had left at some point while he and Draco were still studying.

 

“When did Crabbe and Goyle leave?” asked Harry.

 

Draco glanced around the room before shrugging, “Dunno.  When we were discussing Transfiguration?” he offered.

 

When Harry got up on Monday, the four of them found a notice pinned to the bulletin board in the Slytherin common room.

 

**Notice to First Years**

Broomstick flying lessons will begin on Thursday.

Gryffindors and Slytherins will meet instructor, Madam Hooch,

at the training yard at 3:30pm for lessons together.

 

“Typical.” Harry groaned when he finished reading the notice.  “Just what I always wanted; to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Finnigan.”

 

“Don’t worry about Finnigan.” Draco insisted.  “I know his sort, I bet he’s all talk.  I’ll coach you if you like, I’ve been flying since I was little, and I can give you plenty of tips.”

 

“The way _he_ tells it, he’s been flying around the countryside all his life too.” Harry added with a shrug.

 

“Malfoy, have you seen this?” they both turned to regard the boy who’d spoken.  He was a Slytherin a year ahead of them, who Harry had learned was named Maximus Cuffe.  His father, apparently, was chief editor for the Wizard Newspaper, _“The Daily Prophet”_ , a fact he spoke of frequently and loudly.

 

“Seen what?” Draco moved to where both he and Maximus could see the article on the page of the newspaper he held open for him.  Harry shifted around to the boy’s other side so he could see as well.

 

“Gringotts Break-In?” Draco read aloud.

 

“What kind of moron would break into a goblin bank?”  Vincent asked no one in particular.

 

“Gringotts is supposed to be impenetrable, isn’t it?”  Gregory added.

 

“Or nearly that.”  Maximus confirmed, “Look at the date.” He continued, turning back to Draco, “Isn’t that?”

 

“Yeah, I was there that day.” Draco agreed.  “July thirty-first.”

 

“Yeah I saw you there.”  Maximus confirmed, “Thought it was interesting that it was the same day we were both there.”

 

Harry scanned down more of the article while the other two boys discussed it.  “It says the vault had been emptied earlier that day.”  He interjected, “I wonder if it happened after I was there, with Hagrid.”

 

“You were _at Gringotts_ that day?” Maximus seemed quite interested.

 

“Well yeah, I went to Diagon Alley to get my things for Hogwarts.  I met Draco there, remember?”

 

“Yeah, had to get my robes fitted.” Draco agreed.  “Too bad we missed all the commotion; it might have been fun to see.”

 

“Absolutely!  Imagine if I could have been there, and gotten pictures, and written up a piece for the Prophet?”  Maximus said excitedly.

 

* * * * *

 

It wasn’t until they were at breakfast that something rather startling occurred to Harry.  He leaned in to whisper with Draco so he wouldn’t be overheard.  “Draco… did I tell you, Hagrid removed something from a vault when I was at Gringotts with him?  There was only one tiny package in the vault, so I guess that qualifies as being ‘emptied earlier that day’ don’t you think?”

 

“Certainly.” Draco frowned for a moment then asked, “Do you think it was something valuable?”

 

“Must have been, the way he was going on, keeping it all secret.  He mentioned ‘Hogwarts business, for Dumbledore’.  Think it was the same vault that article in the Prophet mentioned?”

 

“It’s possible.  Must be something really valuable, but also really small.  I’m sure that narrows down what it could be, but I’m not thinking of anything off the top of my head.”

 

“Me neither.” Harry sat thoughtfully for a moment.

 

“What’re you whispering about?” Vincent Crabbe asked from across the table.

 

“It’s nothing important.” Draco lied easily.  “If it were, we’d have included you, of course.”

 

“Oh, right then.” Vincent shrugged, and went back to his meal, but Harry and Draco didn’t discuss the matter any further.

 

When Thursday morning came, Harry was nervous.  He’d been thinking about his flying lessons all week, and they’d come up frequently in conversation.  In the evenings, Draco had tried to give him some tips in the Slytherin house common room, but there wasn’t much practical knowledge to be gained from books and discussion.  Draco had even written to his father, asking about the possibility of getting the rules against 1st years having broomsticks relaxed for Harry and him, so he could let him try it out before the ‘big day’.

 

At breakfast on Thursday, Harry, Draco, Greg, and Vince entered the great hall just in time for the morning mail.  The Malfoy’s eagle owl swooped in to deliver a letter to Draco just as he was entering the double doors, and he tucked the envelope under his arm as he moved into the room.  They’d been about to head down the center aisle along the Slytherin table, when the blonde boy’s attention was caught by something to their right.  The three of them followed Draco as he turned and strolled along the Gryffindor table to where Neville Longbottom sat with a glass ball filled with swirling grey smoke.

 

“…if it turns red – oh.”  As Neville spoke, the smoke in the ball began to glow bright red.  “…you’ve forgotten something…”

 

“Draco!”  Harry gasped as his friend snatched the bauble from Longbottom’s fingers.

 

“What’s going on here?”  McGonagall had come up out of nowhere, visibly startling them.

 

“Malfoy’s got my remembrall, Professor.” Longbottom mumbled.

 

“I was just looking.” Draco replied swiftly, dropping the object back on the table and turning away as if he couldn’t care less.

 

Harry gave Neville an apologetic look, and found Seamus Finnigan glaring at him from a few seats down.

 

“Just open the letter.” Harry growled, once they found seats at the Slytherin table.  Draco had been expecting a response back from his father, and Harry hoped this might be it.

 

“Nosey McGonagall always around when you don’t want her.” Draco muttered.

 

“I wouldn’t cross that one.” Harry added after a moment.  “Best leave things like that alone.”

 

“You may be right at that.”  He finally opened the letter, and scanned the contents.  After a moment, he frowned, “Father says I need to be patient.” He said glumly, “Rather than thinking about brooms.  Said he’d write a letter of inquiry though, so that’s something; an improvement, at least.  I think the rule is ridiculous.”

 

“Doesn’t help us today though.” Harry thought aloud.  “There’s no more time for anything like that before our first lessons.”

 

Three-thirty came, and with it Harry and the other Slytherins arrived at the appointed field.  The castle stood between them and the forbidden forest, but they could still make out the trees even from this distance.  When they arrived, there were twenty broomsticks lined up in two rows, and Draco immediately began analyzing them, commenting on the inferior workmanship of the brooms, and how battered they were, wondering if the charms that allowed them to fly might have worn off by now.

 

Harry had half a mind to ask him to shut up, but he kept silent, as they waited for the Gryffindors to arrive.  Seamus was – of course – one of the first of them down the hill and across the lawns.  He smirked at Harry, who sighed and tried to prepare himself for his inevitable humiliation.  Madam Hooch arrived shortly after the last of the Griffindors, her grey hair standing out even from a distance.  Her yellow eyes, however, were quite startling.

 

She paused for only the slightest breath before saying, “Well, what are you all waiting for?  Everyone, stand by a broomstick.  Come on, hurry up.”

 

“Try this one.” Draco whispered as he pulled Harry into the line, next to a relatively smooth handled broom, with a single stumpy twig angling off to one side near the tip.

 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say ‘UP!’”  Madam Hooch instructed them from one end of the lines.

 

There was a bit of shouting and calling as all of them followed the instructions at once.  Harry’s broom rose to meet his hand with a nearly audible smack, and he noted absently that it was one of the only brooms which had.  Even Draco and Seamus, who were purportedly quite experienced, had to call a few times before their brooms obeyed.

 

Once everyone had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch showed them how to properly mount the broom without sliding off one end.  Then she moved along the line, giving them pointers and correcting their grips.  “You’re holding this wrong.” She said to Draco.  “Shift your hands here, and here.” She helped him adjust his grip.

 

“I’ve always held it this way…” Draco insisted sourly.

 

“Then you’ve always been doing it wrong.” She admonished, before moving on to correct Seamus’ posture as well.

 

Finally she moved back to the end, and continued, “Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard.  Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly.”

 

Several people nodded, before she resumed, “On my whistle – three – two –”

 

The whistle had only just reached Madam Hooch’s lips when Neville kicked up a bit prematurely, rising into the air in an upward spiral, his face ashen with fear as he looked down wildly at his classmates.

 

“Come back, boy!” Hooch cried, but Neville was out of control, he span around, once, twice… then lost his grip, sliding off the shaft of wood and falling swiftly to the ground with a painful sounding thud.

 

Everyone crowded closer, though Madam Hooch got to him first, gingerly checking him for injuries.  “Oww!” Neville cried when she probed his arm.

 

“Broken wrist, come on boy – it’s all right, up you get.” She helped him to his feet then turned to address the rest of them.

 

“None of you is to move, while I take this boy to the hospital wing.  You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’  Come on, dear.”  And she was off, leading Neville away.

 

As soon as she was out of ear shot, Draco and Seamus simultaneously burst into laughter, while Greg and Vince also started to laugh, but both Draco and Seamus stopped abruptly, glaring at one another, and the others died down awkwardly.

 

“Shut up Malfoy.” One of the Gryffindor girls growled at him, ignoring the fact that Seamus had been laughing too.

 

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?”  This time it was a Slytherin girl Harry hadn’t talked to much yet, named Pansy Parkinson.  “Never thought _you’d_ like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”

 

Whatever Parvati might have said in response was cut off by Draco, who moved forward to snatch something from the ground near where Neville had fallen.  “Look!” he said, “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

 

Harry moved next to him, and saw it was the Remembrall Draco had snatched earlier at breakfast.  “Give that here, Draco.” He said holding out his hand, and was only a little surprised when his friend complied.

 

“What do you want it for?” he asked, after tossing it to him.

 

“You’re going to leave it somewhere nasty, aren’t you?” shouted the Weasley boy, Ron, as he pushed his way closer while scowling at Harry.

 

“None of your business.” Harry tucked the object into his robes, and glared right back.

 

“That’s not a bad idea.” Draco crowed, “Maybe up a tree?” he suggested.

 

Ron dove at Harry, but Greg and Vince got between them in an instant, surprisingly quick for boys their size.  “Lay off.”  Seamus came forward in a flash, with his friend Dean Thomas right behind.  In a moment almost everyone was shouting at each other, but Harry and Blaise Zabini dragged the other Slythering boys away, and several of the Gryffindor girls followed suit with Ron, Seamus, and Dean, pulling the throng apart before anyone could start a real fight.

 

Tempers had cooled only a little by the time Madam Hooch returned, finding them still grumbling.  Draco and Harry stood as far away from Seamus and Ron as they could while still staying with the other Slytherins.  “All right, everyone stayed on the ground then?”

 

There were nods all around, and a “Yes ma’am.” From Hermione Granger.

 

“Good, now let’s try again, shall we?”  It was the same as before, but this time, when Madam Hooch blew the whistle, about half of them rose into the air, including Harry.  Suddenly his worries seemed to fly away with him on the breeze.  The broom shifted with his weight, and he did a few dips and swerves just for the sake of it as he realized something monumental.  This was _easy_.  He’d been worried for nothing.

 

“You’re a natural, Potter.” Hooch confirmed what he’d just been thinking, “But stay with the class.”  He’d been half tempted to race off into the sky, but Madam Hooch’s hawk-like eyes missed nothing, apparently.  He reigned himself in, and let Hooch teach the lesson.

 

By the time they were done, it was obvious that Harry was the best flyer of all of them, even better than Finnigan, Draco, or Ron Weasley.  He was laughing with Draco as they came back to the ground, and Harry reluctantly released his broomstick.  It was hard to stop, now that he’d found something magic that he was actually good at.

 

“Might I have a word with you, Mr. Potter?” Hooch said, after gathering up the brooms.  “Can you carry a few of these for me?”  They divided the brooms among them, and Harry waved Draco and the others to go on ahead while he walked alongside the short, wiry woman.  “Harry, you’ve never flown a broom before, have you?”

 

“No ma’am.” Harry shook his head.

 

“I thought not.  But one wouldn’t know that watching you fly.  I’ve never seen a first year so naturally at home in the air before.” She complimented him again as they walked.  “I was truly impressed, and I’ve been flying, and teaching students to fly, for quite a long time.  How would you like to try out for Quidditch?”

 

“But ma’am, I thought first years aren’t allowed to try out for quidditch.”  He reminded her.

 

“Normally no, but I could ask on your behalf for an exception.  It would be a great chance for you to fly more, and own your own broom, even though you’re a first year, all you have to do is say yes.  I can’t guarantee you’ll get on the Slytherin team, of course, but you’ll be able to try out like everyone else.”

 

“Yes!” Harry agreed, his face lighting up.  “If I can do it, I will.  Though… I don’t know much about Quidditch yet.”

 

“If you can learn it as fast as you learned the broom, you’ll have no trouble at all, I promise.”  She gave him a smile, and quieted for a moment, leaving him to think over all that had just happened.  Everything seemed to have turned around, in the blink of an eye, from the moment his feet had left the ground.

 

“Tryouts for Slytherin are at the quidditch pitch this evening, in about an hour.” She continued, “Six O’clock.  Can you make it?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t have Transfiguration until seven.” Harry agreed.

 

“I’ll see you then, I’ll have everything ready, and I’ll bring a broom you can borrow.  If you get on the team, you’ll need to make arrangements to get a broom for long term use.  But I’m sure that won’t be a problem, the school has quite a few extra brooms, and not just these training brooms either.”

 

Harry thought about what he had time to do in the next hour, if he wanted to make it out to the quidditch pitch for tryouts.  He went to his rooms to put the remembrall away safely, already planning out how he’d return it to Neville discreetly.  Then he went in search of Draco.

 

“She really said that?  You get to try out for Quidditch?”  Draco was amazed and Harry thought he sounded just a little jealous when Harry shared the news.

 

“Yeah, and while I already know I love flying, I think I’d feel more comfortable if you came to watch, at the very least.  You can give me tips for anything I don’t know yet.”  Harry hoped Draco wouldn’t let this be cause for any bad feelings between them, but Draco seemed almost as excited as he felt, without any of Harry’s nervousness.

 

“Well, why don’t I explain the rules of Quidditch on the way over, then you can ask me any questions you might have before the tryouts start.  What position are you going to try out for?”

 

“I have no idea.”  Harry admitted.  So Draco started to explain about the various positions

 

By the time they arrived, Harry’s head was buzzing with the strangeness of it all, and while Malfoy knew the rules quite well, Harry wasn’t sure how much he’d remember just from their conversation alone.  They were early, but not the first one’s there.  Another Slytherin boy, 4 years older than them, was out on the field between the tall raised stands with a wooden box at his feet.

 

“See those rings high up in the air on either end of the field?”  Draco asked, pointing them out.  Harry saw three on each side, of varying heights.  “Those are the goal posts.  The chasers try to get the quaffle…”

 

“Quaffle’s the… red ball?” Harry wanted to be certain he was remembering right.

 

“Yeah, not one of the dangerous ones.” Draco continued, as they found a place to sit.  “The chasers try to get the quaffle into the hoops, each time they do, they earn ten points for their team.”

 

“And the snitch is worth a hundred fifty?  That seems a bit imbalanced…”  Harry commented.

 

“Wait till you see the snitch, or try to catch it.  Then you’ll understand why it’s worth so much.”

 

“I know, the keeper tries to catch the snitch,”

 

“No, that’s the seeker.  The keeper guards the goals.”

 

“Oh, right.  So when the seeker catches the snitch the game ends.  It seems really strange, and weird.  How do you keep sense of it, it sounds like…”

 

“You lot here to watch?” it was the older boy who’d arrived before them on the field.  He wore a uniform consisting of green, black, and silver robes, as well as some padding in places, no doubt to protect him during play.

 

“Harry’s going to try out!” Draco informed him, self-importantly.

 

“Harry, as in Harry Potter?” He smiled, recognizing him, “Marcus Flint, I’m Slytherin Captain this year.” He added, saving Harry from having to remember his name.  Harry shook the hand Marcus extended toward him.  “Unfortunately, I’m afraid first years aren’t allowed to try out for the quidditch team, even if they’re ‘Harry Potter’.”

 

“Madam Hooch is getting permission for him.”  Draco replied.

 

“That’s right.” Harry decided he needed to speak up for himself a bit.  “Madam Hooch said I could try out.  You can ask her when she gets here; she said she’d loan me a broom.”

 

That shocked Marcus, “Did she really?  I’ll be a pixie, that’d make you the youngest Hogwarts quidditch player in… at least a century.”

 

“Who is?” More people were beginning to arrive, just in time to hear the tail end of their conversation.  The voice belonged to a very tall boy, who looked even older than Marcus.

 

“Harry Potter.  Madam Hooch said he could try out, how ‘bout that?”

 

“She said that, Marcus?”

 

“That’s what Potter and Malfoy say; Madam Hooch will be here soon to tell us herself.”

 

“Tell us what?  They’re not gonna cancel quidditch or something, are they?”

 

“What are _you_ doing here, Harriet?” Marcus scowled at the newest arrival, a girl about his own age already dressed in quidditch robes not too dissimilar from Marcus’ robes.

 

“Gonna try out of course.  I was on the team two years ago.  Just because I took a year off doesn’t mean I can’t try out again.”

 

Marcus frowned, but refrained from saying more on the subject.  “Oh, look there’s Madam Hooch.” He said, drawing their attention to the silver haired figure coming their way from the castle.

 

Harriet turned to Harry, “Hello Potter, so what was that about then?”

 

It was Draco who answered, of course; seeming to delight in any opportunity to surprise his classmates.  “Harry’s been given permission by Hooch to try out for the team.” He beamed brightly.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be brilliant.  What position you plan to try out for?”

 

“I don’t know yet.” Harry said, his voice a little dry, as he was feeling a bit nervous again.

 

“Oh, well you look like you’ve got a good build for Seeker.  That’s what I’m trying out for.” She winked at him, “But if you do, I won’t go easy on you just ‘cause you’re a first year.”

 

“You won’t have to, Harry’ll show you up, you’ll see.”  Draco interjected, but she just laughed, and walked away to listen in on the conversation Madam Hooch was having with Marcus.

 

“Draco?” Harry asked, realizing something amiss.  “I don’t have a uniform…”

 

“Oh, right.” Draco looked around, “Maybe they’ll let you change before trying out, there’s bound to be extra uniforms in the lockers, they’re just over there, I think.” He pointed at some buildings set a little ways away from the pitch, and Harry nodded, hoping Draco had it right.

 

“All right everyone.” Madam Hooch called a moment later, moving forward with Marcus so that everyone could see and hear her.  “I’ll be monitoring your try outs, but don’t let me slow you down, go ahead and get started.  Harry, come with me a moment, I’ll get you that broom I promised, and you can change into some quidditch robes for the tryouts.”

 

“See?  Told you.” Draco smiled, and found a place to wait until Harry got back.

 

“So, any questions about the rules or anything like that?” Madam Hooch asked, while walking with Harry toward the building Draco had pointed out.

 

“No ma’am.  I’ve heard a little already, and it sounds really confusing, if I hear any more before I see what’s going on, I think my head might explode.”

 

She laughed, “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?  Fair enough, I’m sure it’ll all make sense once you’ve had a chance to give it a try yourself.”

 

They moved inside the building, and the teacher found a small box in a side room with a pile of mismatched uniforms in it.  Some of them had the house colors of the four houses, while others looked plain, or perhaps just washed out.  Harry guessed they were practice uniforms, not meant for any particular house.  “Got a Slytherin robe here might just fit you; why don’t you try it on?  I’ll be right back with that broom.” She handed him a robe, and pointed him in the direction of some privacy stalls where he could change.

 

On their way back out, she handed him a smooth broom with a black handle, and a collection of straight pale straws, along with silver footrests, only slightly tarnished.  “It’s an older model.” Madam Hooch explained, “A Cleansweep Four; handles fine, though she’s starting to slow down just a little. Still, she’s a sight faster than that training broom you were using earlier.  If you make the team, I’ll let you sign her out for the year, just take good care of her.”

 

“It sounds fantastic.” Harry assured her, already admiring the broomstick.  It may not have been new, but it still felt better in his hands than just about anything he could remember.

 

“Madam Hooch, what position should I try out for?”  Harry asked as they walked back across the field.

 

“Well, you’re small, and quick, and you seemed pretty agile in the air.  You could do well as a chaser, or even a seeker.”  The teacher responded.

 

“Harriet said I had a good build for seeker.”  Harry confirmed.

 

“She’s right.  If you make reserve seeker with her as your starter, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot more from her than I could teach you.  I was a chaser myself when I was on the Slytherin team.”

 

When they arrived back at the quidditch pitch, many of the other Slytherins were already in the air, and there were a few students in the stands surrounding the pitch as well.  Harry hadn’t realized they were going to have an audience.

 

He mounted his broom like he’d been born to it, and shot up in the air to join them, wondering just what the tryouts would entail.  As he got closer he heard Marcus Flint explaining, “We’ll have reserves, as usual, so if you don’t make a starter position you can still be on the team.  Potter!  What position you trying out for?”

 

“Oh, Madam Hooch said I should try out for seeker.” He called back, hovering level with the other players in a small circle around Flint.

 

“Oi, is that… Potter?” someone called from the stands.

 

“It _is_!” two familiar voices answered simultaneously from the same direction.

 

“Alright, the rest of you know what to do, I’ll take a moment to explain the seeker position to Potter.” Flint either didn’t hear or ignored the comments from the stands.  Everyone split up, flying to different ends of the pitch, as Marcus Flint flew closer to Harry.  “How much do you know the rules for the game, Harry?”

 

“I don’t really.  Malfoy explained some of it to me, but it was kinda confusing.”

 

“Well, seeker is pretty simple, we’ll do some tryouts for that first, so just watch the others and remember; all you have to do is catch the snitch – at the right time, of course.”

 

“Right time?”  Harry blinked.

 

“Well yeah.  If we’re winning, you can hold off a bit on the snitch – so long as the other team doesn’t get it first.  But if we’re losing by a lot, you might want to wait on it – till we catch up enough that we’ll win when you catch it.  Make sense?”

 

“Yeah… I mean… not really.”

 

“Cause it’s worth a lot of points.”  Marcus continued, “But it ends the game – so if we’re really behind catching it could lose the game for us.”

 

“I guess…  It doesn’t sound too hard.” Marcus gave Harry a thumbs-up, then flew down toward the ground.

 

“Alright, seekers first.  We’ve got three going for seeker.” He shouted back up at them.  Harry realized two other students had come to hover close to him.  “We’re going to start off with practice snitches, everyone but the seekers come get some.”

 

The other Slytherins came down to where Flint had landed next to the brown box he’d had earlier.  He opened the box, and started handing out small objects, rather smaller than the remembrall Harry had taken from Draco earlier.  “We’re going to toss them around, and see if you can grab them out of the air.” Marcus told them all, most likely for Harry’s benefit.

 

They all rose into the air, and started flying around the pitch at different heights and speeds.  “Ready?  I’ll go first, there’s only three of you, so we’ll do all of you at once.”  Marcus continued.

 

Harry nodded.  He understood he was meant to catch the small balls, or try to anyways.  He wondered if he’d be any good at it.

 

“Alright, here goes.”  Marcus tossed his ball high in the air.  Harriet was off first, streaking upwards towards the ball, with Harry and the other seeker, Terrence, close behind.  Harriet reached the ball first, and grabbed for it.  Her hand passed right over it, at the very top of its arc, but even though she tried to shift her weight to correct her error, it started to fall before she could get it.

 

Harry pitched downward suspecting that Terrence would be doing the same, and was almost a little surprised when he felt his palm slap the little brown ball as his fist closed around it.

 

“Potter’s got it!” Marcus shouted.  “Okay, you!  Throw yours next.”

 

Harry dropped the ball in his hand, and turned in time to see another student toss a ball across the field.  Again they were off, but this time Harry was in the lead.  He corrected his descent in order to come in line with the ball, seeing Harriet move alongside him.  He reached out to grab the brown wooden ball at the same time she did, and their hands collided.  Terrence was right there below them, and caught the ball as it was knocked into his hand by Harry and Harriet’s fumble.

 

“Higgs caught it!  Now you throw!”  It continued like that for several minutes, the three of them racing around catching balls.  Marcus shouted at them; sometimes proclaiming a catch but other times egging them on.  It was almost as if he wanted them to fight over it more, but the three of them seemed happy to simply compete, without trying to slow each other down.  Harry caught a few more of the balls than either of the other two, he was proud to note.

 

“Now let’s try some dodging.  Let’s get a few of you to fly some checks at them – but remember; they’re on our team, so try not to hit them, or knock them off their brooms, just see how well they dodge.”

 

Flint flew lower, back towards the ground, and next thing Harry knew the larger boys were flying towards him and the others.  They scattered, and Harry spent the next several minutes learning that he was pretty darn good at dodging even the swiftest of the other students as they tried to bump into him on their brooms.

 

“Here comes the snitch!” Marcus called again, “We’re going to release it, then start tryouts for the chasers, you three keep an eye out for it, and we’ll see which of you catches it first.”

 

Harry thought he could do that, as he watched the tiny golden ball take flight, and zoom into the air.  He lost sight of it quickly enough, but stayed alert, as Marcus started explaining to the chasers how they’d be trying out.

 

“You’re pretty good.” Terrence called to him after a moment, flying a bit closer.

 

“Thanks.”  Harry gave him a smile.

 

“I’m a good seeker, but I think you’ll be better than me, once you have a bit more practice.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be looking for the snitch?” Harriet joined in their conversation.

 

“Not yet, really.” Higgs shrugged, then said, “I’m going to join the chasers, I think Harry deserves to be a seeker, and that way you can both get on the team.”

 

“I don’t need charity.” Harriet scowled at him, but he simply shrugged again.

 

“Good luck!” he called as he moved down to do as he’d said, and join in the tryouts for the chasers, first going to Flint to inform him of his decision.

 

Harry enjoyed watching the others, and was starting to get an idea for how the game was actually meant to be played, when a flicker of light caught his attention and he glanced around to spot the snitch.  Harriet was looking the other way, and Harry wasn’t certain he’d actually seen it, but another blur of movement told him something was definitely there.

 

He took a firm grip on his broom and set off after it.  Harriet noticed his movement, and too late realized what had drawn his attention.  The flying golden ball tried to dodge, and Harry kept after it.  It was a few moments of chasing through the air before Harriet caught up to him.  The snitch dodged left, then right, then down, and Harry stayed with it, following it close to the stands on one side, where he narrowly dodged one of the other boys who smacked a bludger out of the air just above Harry.

 

Harriet pulled back somewhere along the line and Harry was able to get right in line with the snitch, and snatch it out of the air with his right hand.  “Harry’s got the snitch!” the boy who’d hit the bludger cried out over the field, as Harry grinned and held the golden ball up for all to see.

 

“Well done, Potter!” Hooch shouted from below, and Flint gave him an encouraging grin.

 

“Good job, Potter.”  Flint called, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

 

Harry waited, clutching the snitch, and hovering in place, keeping out of the way as some of the chasers practiced flying in formation while the others tried to divert them, or get in their way.  After a moment, Flint disengaged from the others and flew to where Harry and  Harriet were waiting.

 

“Looks like we’ve got our new seeker, Potter.  Congratulations!”  He told him.

 

“Thanks!” Harry beamed back, “Though I only caught the snitch because Harriet had to dodge somebody.  If I wasn’t so small, I would have had to go around the long way too.”

 

“That’s part of being a seeker though.” Harriet told him.  “Lots of seekers are small.”

 

“Yeah, so don’t worry about that.  We’ve got the chasers sorted out, and I’m just about settled on our beaters, so we just need to finalize our keeper and we’ll be good to go.  Next week we’re meeting a bit earlier in order to get in a good first practice.” Marcus informed him.

 

“Next Thursday?” Harry asked for clarification.

 

“We’ll practice every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday – unless something comes up.  If you want, you can let the snitch go, and you can practice catching it again while we finish up.”

 

“That’s okay, I don’t know if I have time to manage it again.”

 

“That’s right, first years have a class Thursday evening, transfiguration, isn’t it?”  Harriet asked.

 

“Yeah, so maybe I should start getting ready to head out.” Harry agreed.

 

“That’s fine.  I’ll see you at practice on Monday – I’ll get in touch with you between now and then, to make sure you know what’s expected of you.”

 

“Sounds good.” Harry nodded, and handed Harriet the snitch, before taking his broom down to the ground near Madam Hooch.  “You were brilliant!” Draco told him, looking as if he’d enjoyed watching nearly as much as Harry had enjoyed flying.

 

Harry returned the borrowed quidditch robes, and started back to his room with Draco to grab their text books for their transfiguration class and stow the broom Hooch had lent him.  He was so excited and happy for a change, that he almost didn’t spot the two figures coming down from the stands.  That by itself wasn’t unusual, but the pair of them were identical in height, and sported bright red hair.  He knew of only two people in the school who fit that description.

 

Before he could divert to speak with them, they’d headed off.  He didn’t think he had time to intercept them unless he wanted to be late for transfiguration, so he put it out of his mind and tried to get himself mentally prepared for his next class.

 

* * * * *

 

By the next day, the news that Harry was going to be on the Slytherin quidditch team was all over the school.  Harry had his suspicions on who might have been spreading the word around, but he was too happy to really care, even if it did mean Seamus was even nastier to him.  He taunted Harry and his friends during breakfast, and whenever they passed him in the halls.  He and his friend, Dean Thomas, even managed to get Crabbe and Goyle in trouble by provoking them into a fight with their wands just as McGonagall came round a corner.

 

Everyone was riled up, and the Slytherins were excited to have Harry on the team, while nearly everyone else was just bemoaning how much better the Slytherin team might be.  Harry learned that Slytherin had been dominating quidditch for a number of years in a row already.

 

Things got quieter over the weekend, but that also gave them a bit more time to get into trouble.  Crabbe and Goyle – once again left to their own devices while Harry and Draco studied – ended up rushing into the Slytherin common room one evening, when most the students were already in bed, shouting about a monster in the school.  It took Harry and Draco (who’d been going over quidditch rules and tactics) nearly three minutes to calm them down long enough to explain the story.

 

“It was Dean Thomas.” Crabbe began, “He wanted to fight, so told us to meet him up in the third floor corridor – the one that’s out of bounds.  Well, Greg found this locked door, and he has this box of match sticks which can be used to open locks, so he goes and opens it.  Next thing you know Mrs. Norris was yowling at us, and we rush into the room to hide.”

 

“That was a mistake.” Gregory Goyle added.  “That’s where the monster was!”

 

“What sort of monster?” Harry had to ask, wondering whether to laugh or act sympathetic.  He didn’t believe they’d actually have a monster behind some door at the school.

 

“It was huge!” Goyle cried.

 

“A big, three-headed… bear, I think!” Vincent Crabbe added.

 

“Show us.” Draco instructed, getting to his feet.

 

“You mental?” Goyle asked, his mouth gaping with shock.

 

“Maybe _you_ are.” Draco countered.  “Who ever heard of a three-headed bear?  If you’re even telling the truth.”

 

“You think that’s a good idea?”  Harry was curious, but even if it did sound absurd, there was a reason they’d been warned away from the third floor corridor, and a probably a good reason the door had been locked.

 

“Where are you four going?” Harry turned to see a second year student, Hestia Carrow – along with her twin sister, Flora – looking at them.  “It’s after curfew, I don’t know where _they_ were, but they only barely made it back.”  Harry didn’t think the twins had overheard their conversation, but it would have been obvious to anyone that they were making ready to go somewhere.

 

“They just want to show us something, we’ll be right back.” Draco told them.  “And you’re not going to go snitching on us, if you know what’s good for you.” He added, and Harry blinked, a bit shocked at the venom with which he’d said the words.

 

 “They’re right though…  If we go out, we’re just asking for trouble, it’s a miracle Crabbe and Goyle didn’t get caught, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to push our luck.”  Harry interjected swiftly.

 

Draco sighed, and sat back down, Crabbe and Goyle looked relieved that he wasn’t going to drag them back out to show him.  The Carrows shot Draco a dark look, and a more grateful one at Harry, before getting to their feet and leaving the common room.

 

“What was that about anyways?”  Harry wondered aloud.

 

Draco shrugged, “Just making sure they know not to mess with us.”  He supplied, though that answer hardly satisfied Harry.  Still he decided to leave it at that, as he didn’t want to get into an argument with his best friend.

 

“So… what do you think it’s guarding?” Draco asked after a moment.

 

“Guarding?” Harry blinked, and Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, but couldn’t come up with an answer.

 

“It makes sense.  That’s why the corridor’s forbidden.  It must be guarding something really important.”  Draco continued.

 

Harry remembered something he’d thought about the other day.  “Hagrid told me, when we were at Gringotts, that the only place safer than Gringotts was Hogwarts.  Maybe whatever he took out of that vault is here, being guarded by that thing?”

 

“Could be!”  Draco was smiling, now they had a mystery, and Draco lit up at the prospect of figuring out this new puzzle.

 

“We’ll just have to look into it, see what we can find out.” Harry promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to present these familiar events with a fresh spin. You can be the judge of how well I'm succeeding at that.
> 
> Critiques and reviews are always welcome, and helpful. So please, let me know what you think.
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	5. Chapter 4 – Chasing the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autumn is well underway, and Harry is neck deep in conspiracies and quidditch, and some unusual confrontations besides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere, and very mild violence. No cussing, no adult situations.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

It was on Monday that Harry finally had an opportunity to implement his plan.  At breakfast, he was a little anxious, glancing toward the windows now and then waiting for the swarm of owls to deliver the morning mail.  Draco noticed his odd behavior, of course.

 

“What’s got into you?” He asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

 

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged, but movement caught his eye outside the windows.  He stopped eating long enough to confirm that the owls were indeed on their way.

 

They swooped around the chamber, depositing packages.  Harry looked for Hedwig, carrying a small round package wrapped in brown paper.  He smiled to himself, as she dove down to the Gryffindor table and deposited her burden in front of a rather startled Neville Longbottom.

 

“Isn’t that… Hedwig?” Draco asked, following Harry’s gaze.

 

“Hush!” Harry admonished his friend.  He hadn’t realized Draco knew his owl well enough to identify her among the press.  Neville certainly didn’t seem to, as he opened the package to find his remembrall returned safe and sound.

 

“Don’t tell…” Harry turned back to Draco, but then a fancy ornate envelope was deposited in front of Harry by the Malfoy’s eagle owl.

 

“What the…?”  Harry saw the letter was addressed to him, so he quickly opened it, and scanned the neatly penned words.

 

Dear Mr. Potter,

I have obtained permission from the governors and the Hogwarts administration for you to own your own broom.  This special exception is for you alone, and it would only stir up envy and trouble if everyone else realized right away that this exception has been made, therefore I advise you to be discreet when procuring your new broom.  If you need any assistance determining which broom to buy, or how to get it delivered to the school, my son, Draco, would no doubt be delighted to aid you.  You might also ask your classmate, Peter Connolly, or Professor Severus Snape.

Sincerely,

Lord Governor, Lucius Malfoy

 

“My dad got you permission to own a broom?!” Draco exclaimed, though Harry quickly shushed him.  Draco sounded as shocked as Harry, and perhaps a touch bitter.  “He told _me_ to be ‘patient’, how come I don’t get a broom?”

 

“I wish we could all get brooms.”  Vincent muttered as he and Greg watched Harry from across the table.

 

“I guess it’s because I’m on the quidditch team.”  Harry observed.  “I’ll let you guys borrow it though, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for us all to try it out.” The four of them got up quickly to go to their rooms, their interest in breakfast banished by excited thoughts of procuring Harry a broom, a topic Draco warmed to quickly, despite his annoyance at not getting his own.

 

As for asking for help; Harry already knew Peter Connolly, because Peter was the reserve beater on the Slytherin quidditch team.  Severus Snape, however, was not someone Harry was likely to go to for help, though Draco offered to talk to him on Harry’s behalf if necessary.

 

“I’ve always liked Nimbus brooms.”  Greg told Harry while Draco was getting a pair of books on quidditch and broomsticks from his trunk.

 

“Oh?”  Harry wasn’t sure what made Nimbus brooms different from other brooms, but he was certain he was about to find out.

 

“You could get a Nimbus Two-thousand.” Draco mused when he returned to the Slytherin common room.

 

“I think I saw that in Diagon Alley.” Harry agreed, “One of the boys said it was the fastest broom in the world.”

 

“The Nimbus Two-thousand is considered the fastest commercial broom in the world.” Draco informed him, “Even the Cleansweep Ten, which is newer, is still slower, though Cleansweeps have excellent turning.”

 

“Which is more important to a seeker, speed or turning?” Harry wondered aloud.

 

“I wonder if we could get you a Firebolt, they are custom order only, I heard they’re working on a new model.”  Draco mused.

 

“We need a catalogue, or something.”  Harry suggested.  None of them had anything like that, so they decided to ask Peter Connolly, who they wouldn’t have a chance to speak with until the break for lunch.

 

“A lot of people use clean sweeps, they’re fast and reliable brooms.” Draco told Harry between classes, “Nimbuses are racing brooms in general, but a lot of professional players use them for quidditch.”

 

“You’ve said Firebolts are pretty amazing, right?”  Vincent asked.

 

“That’s true, Firebolts are in a league of their own, but they’re expensive.”  Draco agreed.

 

They continued talking about various broom models between classes.  Finally, Draco and Harry found a chance to talk with Peter.  He not only knew how they could order a broomstick, but had a manual which showed current prices on many different models, and even had basic stats on their performance.

 

“Take a look, they’re sorted by company, and there are sample order forms in the back as well.” Peter sat with them in the common room and watched as they perused his magazine.  They scanned through the cleansweeps, which Draco insisted weren’t good enough for Harry, and soon were looking at Draco’s second favorite broom, the Firebolt.

 

“Firebolts really _are_ fast.” Harry observed, reading that they had a top speed between 120 and 150 miles per hour.  “What’s a hundred twenty miles in kilometers?” Harry wondered aloud, neither Malfoy nor Connolly seemed to know, and Harry wasn’t feeling up to doing the math himself either, so he shrugged, and moved on, “Why’s the speed listed as a range though, none of the other brooms list it like that?”

 

“It’s because Firebolts are custom built.  They don’t make standardized models like the Cleansweep or Comet companies.”  Connolly explained.  “If you bought one, it might not even look like the one in the photo.” He added, “My brother says Ireland is strongly considering putting in an order of Firebolts, but they can be an expensive investment.”

 

“I wonder how much it would cost me.” Harry wasn’t exactly sure how much he had in his vault, and he still had a little trouble with the values of the different coins, and how it compared to things like brooms.

 

“Probably too much for a first year.”  Connolly told them.  Harry watched the rider on the page performing some very intricate death defying maneuvers.  It should have frightened him, but it merely served to make him want it more.  He already knew he loved flying, any sort of flying, whether tricky and dangerous or not.  After a moment he turned the page to look at the Nimbus brooms.

 

“Wait, what’s that?” Draco pointed to an entry at the end of the Nimbus section.  “Two-thousand One?  But that’s not in stores yet, I heard they were still working on it…”

 

“ _It’s available for pre-order_!” Connolly gasped, as he read down the page.

 

“How new is this book?” Harry wondered.

 

“Oh, it updates automatically whenever the companies change their public information.  I haven’t even seen this one before, so it must have only just become available.” Peter explained.

 

_Yeah, but how long will I have to wait_? Thought Harry.

 

They spent much of their lunch hour looking over brooms, and Harry thought about it all throughout his first Quidditch practice, where he was surprised to learn that Harriet McClaren hadn’t made the team, leaving them with no reserve seeker.  All the other reserve positions had been filled, and Harry wondered what had happened after he’d left tryouts.

 

After practice, he had a free period, and spent it looking over the magazine in more depth.  By the time they finished dinner, he was able to inform Draco, Greg, Vince and Peter that he had decided he wanted a Wind Chaser from the Ellerby & Spudmore company.  Statistically it seemed to be designed for a seeker, with excellent speed and handling.  It also had charms for ease of control without hands, and to prevent the rider from falling off at high altitudes.

 

Then of course, came the part Harry was dreading, asking Snape.  Draco said he could ask Snape for assistance without mentioning it was for Harry.  “He’ll know it’s for me, who else do you know whose got special permission to own a broom during his first year?”

 

Draco frowned, but then suggested, “We could ask Connolly to talk to Snape.”

 

“We’d have to tell him why.”  Harry shook his head.  “No, I’ll talk to him.  Maybe… maybe he’ll be in a good mood.” He didn’t hold out much hope, though.  Harry waited until he had some time free from classes.

 

Later that afternoon, Harry found himself outside Snape’s office towards the end of his lunch break.  He was not looking forward to this discussion, but he told himself he could handle it, _and_ that it would be easier than he expected.  Several minutes passed, and he was strongly considering turning around and walking away when the door opened, and the Potions Master did not look surprised to see him standing there.

 

“Well, Potter?” he sneered, not hesitating even an instant as he glared down at Harry.

 

“I was asked to speak with you.” Harry said, speaking fast before he had a chance to think about what he was saying and possibly lose his nerve.  “Mr. Malfoy said you could help me.”

 

Snape didn’t immediately snap at him, or send him away, but regarded him for a moment before stepping back and holding the door open for Harry.  “Very well.  Come inside and tell me what this is about.”  His words were no kinder, but there was something new there.  Had Harry sparked his curiosity, perhaps?

 

Harry entered the room looking for a place to sit, and sat down in the only available chair.  His eyes wandered the room briefly, the walls were covered with shelves containing different colored potions, many of which had odd things floating inside.  “You said Lucius sent you to me?” Snape prompted, when Harry didn’t speak right away.

 

He stood in front of his desk watching Harry with his cold black eyes, doing little to make Harry feel less uncomfortable.  “I’ve been given special permission…” Harry began, his mouth a bit dry, but determined to go on, “To own a broom.  But I can’t leave the school, and Mr. Malfoy said you could help me order one.”

 

“I see.”  He turned away, and Harry felt a surge of disappointment when it seemed Snape wasn’t going to help him after all.  But then the professor opened a drawer on his desk and retrieved a small stack of papers.  “You need to fill out an order for the bank to release funds to the company you wish to buy your broom from, unless you’d prefer to pay K.O.D., though that is considered tacky especially with a purchase of any significant value.”  Snape’s sneer told Harry that he fully believed Harry was that tacky.  “You will also need to submit a purchase order for the broom itself via owl, a matter which does not overly trouble most.”  Again Harry was certain his teacher was implying a rather poor opinion of Harry’s abilities.

 

Harry managed to hold his tongue as Snape regarded him in silence for a moment.  “Here is a standard bank order you may fill out.” He handed Harry one sheet of parchment.  “Once that is finished I will assist you with your purchase order.  Do you know which broom you wish to purchase?”

 

“A Wind Chaser.” Harry said, holding onto that goal in his mind to keep from snapping back at Snape’s stinging remarks.

 

“An… _interesting_ choice.”  The word ‘interesting’ sounded rather unflattering, coming from Snape.

 

“It’s a fine broom.” Harry couldn’t help himself this time, but quickly subsided and turned to the parchment in front of him, and began to fill out the note, starting with the amount the broom would cost.

 

“We shall see.”  Snape stood and watched over Harry’s shoulder, creating an itch at the back of his neck.  “None of the school brooms are adequate for Harry Potter then?”

 

“That’s not…”  Harry bit his cheek, and tried to focus on his paperwork.

 

“Perhaps you hadn’t thought to borrow one from an older player.  Is something second hand also unsatisfactory?”

 

“Why do you hate me?!” Harry cried out suddenly, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment and resentment.

 

Snape didn’t answer right away, but neither did Harry back down.

 

“You’re an arrogant foolish boy with little regard for the rules or respect for your betters.” The Potions Master said at last, “But… I don’t hate you.”  He added when Harry ground his teeth.  “That would imply you had some level of importance.  It is merely my job to ensure my students learn their… limitations.”

 

Harry didn’t think that was much better, and he had half a mind to storm out right then.  He didn’t have to sit here and stand for this.  But then, that would be giving the professor the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under Harry’s skin.  So he ignored his teacher while he forced himself to finish the bank order then started on his purchase order for the broom.

 

“Your father always wasted his money on useless things as well.”  Snape commented as he used a spell to copy the sample order form from the catalogue onto a previously blank sheet of parchment.  Then Harry filled out all the lines, ignoring Snape’s occasional snide comments.  “It’s no surprise that you would squander your family’s savings in the same manner.”  Eventually – having received no further replies from Harry – Snape simply stopped talking all together.

 

When Harry had finished, Snape said, “All that is left is to deliver the letters.  Do you think you can manage that?”

 

“I can handle that just fine.” Harry retorted in a low tone as he rose to his feet.  He took his borrowed magazine, and his two forms, and headed swiftly out the door.

 

By the time he reached his dorm room, he felt quite a bit better.  He’d survived Snape, and he was ready to order his broom.  He slipped the parchments into an envelope then headed to the owlery to send it off with Hedwig.  He was thoroughly looking forward to trying out his new broom, wishing it could arrive tomorrow.

 

When Friday came around, Harry was still waiting eagerly for the post just as he had each morning that week, and today his patience was rewarded when he saw a pair of large owls swoop through the windows carrying a bulging, vaguely broom-shaped package.  It landed directly in front of Harry and he almost tore it open right then, but remembered Lucius’ warning not to flaunt it, so he tucked it down by his feet.

 

“If it were me, I’d open it right here.” Draco whispered, “Imagine the looks on Finnigan’s and Weasley’s faces!” he grinned over at the Gryffindors in question, who scowled back.

 

“I don’t want to make a fuss.  Besides, I’m sure they’ll find out soon enough.”  Harry replied.

 

“Is that your new broom?”  Greg leaned across the table to ask.

 

“Shush, don’t make a fuss.”  Draco hushed his two friends as Harry finished the last of his food before getting up.

 

Greg and Vince caught up to Draco and Harry after wolfing down a few more sweets, and they started across the entrance hall toward the stairs that led down to the dungeons.

 

Seamus and Ron had apparently not been fooled, however, and had followed them out of the great hall.

 

“What’ve you got there, Potter?” Ron sang, catching up to them as they approached the grand staircase.

 

“ ‘Sa broom, in’t it?” Seamus chimed in.  “One o’ tha teachers got tha’ remembrall back from ye, and ya jus’ had ta go and get yer hands on somethin’ else yer not allowed to have, din’cha?”

 

 “The teacher’s didn’t…” Draco snapped, but just at that moment, they were interrupted by the appearance of Professor Quirrel.

 

“Is s-s-s-some-th-thing… something wrong?” The professor was standing at the edge of the landing on the way up to the first floor, and regarded the four of them as nervously as ever.

 

“Potter’s got a broom!” Seamus crowed, sounding certain that he was getting them in the worst sort of trouble.

 

“Y-yes he has.” Quirrel agreed, seeing the broom-shaped package in Harry’s hands.

 

“Firs’ years aren’t allowed ter have their own brooms.” Seamus reminded their teacher.

 

“Yes, I know.  Th-that’s why D-dumble-bumble…” He coughed, “The headmaster told us about the… the s-special c-circ-cumstances for young Mister P-Potter.” He squeaked, then made an odd sound, like a hiccup.

 

“Oh, is that Mr. Potter’s new broom?” said their Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, excitedly.  She was a small round woman with a pleasant face who always seemed to have a bit of dirt on her somewhere, and a healthy rosy glow to her cheeks.  She was approaching the stairs from behind Ron and Seamus just in time to rescue Quirrel from having to stutter through any more explanations.

 

Seamus and Ron were both gaping at what Quirrel had just said regarding the circumstances of Harry’s broom, but they weren’t entirely ready to give up yet.

 

“Harry can’t be allowed to have a broom, even if he _is_ on the Slytherin team…” Ron objected, though his tone wasn’t as bold as it had been a moment ago.

 

“Dumbledore made an exception for him.” Professor Sprout explained.  “Though you shouldn’t be showing it off here.  Off with you.”  The two teachers continued on their way, and Draco led the group past the main staircase to the passage leading down to the basements before the two Gryffindors could make any further trouble.

 

“I told you their faces would be fantastic, didn’t I?” Draco began as they entered the Slytherin common room.  He no longer seemed to mind that Harry had gotten permission to own a broom while he hadn’t.

 

The four of them gathered around a table in the middle of the room while Harry ripped the paper off his package to reveal a sleek white-handled broom, every bristle in its tail neatly in place.  The writing etched near the tip of the shaft read ‘Wind Chaser’ in dark brown lettering burned into the wood.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry said.  He couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful.

 

“Wish we could take it for a spin right now.”  Draco sighed, looking at it dreamily.  “But we can’t be late to Snape’s class.  I may ask for one of these for my birthday.” He added, “All I’ve got at home is a Nimbus Seventeen Forty-Seven.”

 

“Don’t worry, you can borrow it and practice on it when there’s time.” Harry assured him.  “You’re right though, let’s put this away and head to class.”

 

Harry stowed the broom in his trunk and gathered everything they’d need before heading off to doubles potions, where no doubt Finnigan, Thomas, and Ron Weasley would try to make their lives miserable, not that they needed any new excuse.

 

“Harry.” Draco began on the way to the next class, “I forgot to ask you why you sent that remembrall thing back to Longbottom… Ha! No pun intended.” He chuckled at his own joke.  “I thought you were going to leave it up a tree or something.”

 

“That was _your_ idea, not mine.  I only held onto it because I knew if someone else would have grabbed it, they’d’ve done something really nasty, just like that.”

 

“It would have been funny though.” Draco insisted as they made their way to their dorm room.

 

“Save your pranks for Finnigan and his friends.  Neville never did anything to us, and I’m tired of people picking on him, just because he seems more timid than the other Gryffindors.  What’s the point anyways?”

 

Draco thought about that a moment, then shrugged.  “I guess… it’s just sort of a habit.  But Finnigan does deserve it more, doesn’t he?”  Harry smiled at him, glad that his friend could see things from his perspective.  All this fighting and taunting was getting a little old, in Harry’s mind, not that he expected Finnigan to give up anytime soon.  Draco smiled, and chuckled a little to himself, “Finnigan and Weasley are going to be so jealous now that they know you’ve got a broom.” He added loud enough for Greg and Vince to hear as they trailed behind them.

 

“Serves them right, I suppose, always trying to make trouble.” Harry agreed.

 

* * * * *

 

The next few weeks passed by quickly.  Harry was enjoying his quidditch practices with his new broom so much that even Professor Snape’s jabs and snide remarks couldn’t annoy him in potions class.  Harry was doing well enough in Snape’s class that Snape had only found a few excuses to take away another five points from Harry by the end of the month, and he’d given Draco a total of twenty, so all in all they were ahead.

 

Seamus’ hated that Harry was on the Slytherin team and got to own a broom in the process.  He was nasty to them all the time now, and while Harry would have preferred to avoid problems; between Seamus’ jealousy, and Draco’s smart mouth, they managed to get into trouble anyway.  Professor McGonagall caught them nearly fighting in the halls with Seamus, Dean, and Ron, and took five points from both their houses.

 

Harry and his friends began discussing ways to get back at the three of them without breaking rules, or at least without getting caught.  Draco wanted to challenge them to a night time duel, then tip off Filch that they were out of bed past curfew, but that led to a discussion on wizard dueling, which Harry knew absolutely nothing about, and they soon forgot about their revenge plans as Draco began teaching a rapt Harry about the history and etiquette of dueling along with some very basic dueling spells.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry woke up one Thursday morning nearly two months later to the smell of pumpkin pies and other delicious things.  He realized with a start that it was Halloween, and he was amazed when they went to breakfast.  The whole castle seemed to be in a celebratory spirit, even the ghosts were festive as they charged down the halls on phantom horses.

 

In Defense Against the Dark Arts that day, Quirrel seemed to be in a rare mood, and he made it through the lesson without getting faint or stuttery whenever anything _interesting_ came up.  He talked mainly about some of the less terrifying creatures which inhabited the mountains in this part of the country.  They learned a jinx which could be used to stun certain things that normally were too stupid to react properly to normal stunning jinxes, such as trolls, gremlins, and drakes.

 

Harry did particularly well in quidditch practice, and laughed along with the rest of them when Terrence, one of their chasers, starting tossing around quaffle sized pumpkins enchanted to insult whoever caught them.  Marcus didn’t even scold him, as he might have another day, for distracting them from ‘serious practice’.

 

When they arrived for the banquet that evening, the great hall was decked out with floating pumpkins lit by candles, and the food was just about the best Harry could ever remember tasting.  The festivities were interrupted when Professor Quirrel sprinted into the room screaming, “Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.” then fainted straight away.  After a few panicked moments, Dumbledore silenced them all and sent them with their prefects to their house common rooms, while the teachers went to deal with the troll.

 

Harry’s group spent some time going over what they knew about Trolls, and one of the older students leant them a book on trolls, which they were surprised to learn mentioned their defense against the dark arts teacher, Professor Quirrel.  “You think he’s alright?” Harry asked Draco, thinking of the way he’d fainted in the great hall.

 

“I wouldn’t worry.  It says here he’s one of the leading experts on dealing with trolls.”  Draco shrugged it off.

 

“Yeah, but that was years ago, before this book was written.” Harry tapped the pages in front of him.  “Everyone knows he hasn’t been the same since he got back from Albania.”

 

“You want to go check on him, don’t you?” Draco sighed, he was getting to know Harry’s moods fairly well, and though they didn’t always agree – Harry thought Draco had a nasty tongue, especially towards some of the Gryffindors; and Draco thought Harry showed a bit too much concern for others when it wasn’t any of his business – they were also quite good at helping each other get out of sticky situations, so most of the time, it worked out.

 

“Come on, I’m sure the teachers have dealt with the troll by now, let’s go see if Quirrel is still fainted.”

 

The four of them got to their feet, but Draco told Greg and Vince they’d be fine without them then he and Harry slipped out of the secret entrance to the common room, and toward the nearest staircase.  The halls were eerily quiet, and they found the great hall empty.  They were wondering what to do next as they came back through the entrance hall, and found Professor Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrel descending the stairs in their direction, the former two counted among Harry’s least favorite teachers, though he was glad to see Quirrel appeared mostly recovered.

 

“What are you doing out of your house wing?” McGonagall asked in a sharp voice.  Both of them flinched.

 

“We were just coming to check on Quirrel, he’d fainted earlier and…”

 

“Two points, Potter, for your blatant disregard for instructions.” Snape scowled at him, seeming to be in a particularly foul mood.

 

Harry bit his lip to hold in his retort, knowing it’d only make things worse.

 

“I think that’s only fair.” McGonagall agreed, turning on Draco, “Another point from you, Malfoy, now hurry back to your rooms, and stay there please.”

 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Draco murmured once they were down the stairs, and on their way back.

 

“You could have said so.” Harry grumbled in reply.

 

“Yeah, I could have.  But you wouldn’t have listened.” He shrugged.

 

“I suppose not.  But, we could have handled ourselves, Quirrel taught us that stunning jinx just today.”

 

“Quirrel seemed fine; he must have remembered his stunning jinx too.  He might just be sturdier than he looks.” Said Draco, “Did you notice that Snape was limping?”  Draco had paused just outside the common room, and lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard.

 

“No I didn’t.” Harry blinked; he hadn’t been paying much attention to Snape’s feet.  “Do you suppose he was hurt by the troll?”

 

“Must’ve been.  I’ll ask him about it when next we get a chance to chat.”

 

“Maybe you should teach him that jinx Quirrel taught us.” Harry joked, and they were both laughing as they re-entered the common room.

 

* * * * *

 

Draco had his chance to ask on Saturday, but when he returned to the dorm room they shared with the other first years, he was wearing a thoughtful expression.  “Harry?  …have a moment?” Harry put his book down (he’d checked out a book on quidditch rules from the library as a refresher since their first match was barely a week away now).  “Snape seems to be all right.” He began, either missing or ignoring Harry’s pointed look, which attempted to say that he obviously didn’t really care if Snape was doing well or not.  “But I overheard something I thought you might find interesting.”

 

Harry could tell Draco was excited, as he’d lowered his voice into his favorite ‘conspiratorial tone’ once he’d drawn close enough.  It was the same tone he used whenever they were discussing the mysterious three-headed bear, or the package from Gringotts.  “Snape got injured on Halloween, just as we thought.  But I’m not sure it was the troll.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Harry asked.

 

“He mentioned something about teeth, but we know from that book we borrowed that trolls don’t really bite, and as often as not, don’t have many teeth.  They like to hit things with their fists or clubs usually.  Now, I was thinking…”

 

Before he could finish, Harry spoke out, catching his train of thought almost immediately.  “It could have been the bear.  Do you think Snape might be after whatever it’s guarding?”

 

“What?!” Draco’s outraged face said that he hadn’t considered anything of the sort.  “No.  Snape may be a bit stern, but he’s no thief.  I bet there’s another reason he was there, maybe someone let the troll in as a diversion to try and get a look in the ‘forbidden corridor’ and Snape saved them from getting eaten by the bear.”

 

Harry couldn’t honestly see Snape rescuing some hapless student, especially one stupid enough to let a troll into the castle as a simple diversion.  “If someone _did_ let a troll into the castle, I have an idea who might know something about it.” Harry told his friend, “I’ll let you know what they say.”

 

“They?”  Draco frowned, “Why are you being so mysterious all of a sudden?”

 

Harry sighed, “It’s the Weasley twins.  I get the impression that there’s not a lot of rule breaking or mischief that goes on in the school they don’t know about.  They so often seem to be in the center of such things.”

 

“They’re… Gryffindors.”

 

“And the perfect people to help us find out more about this.”

 

Draco thought about it a long moment, but finally nodded.  “You’re probably right.”  He admitted grudgingly.

 

Harry simply smiled.

 

Harry found a chance before Charms class on Monday to go looking for the Weasley twins.  Of all the students he knew outside Slytherin they’d been the most friendly to him, even though he’d learned they were playing on the Gryffindor quidditch team against Harry on Saturday.  In point of fact, they were friendlier than some of the Slytherins Harry had met.

 

He didn’t know exactly how to go about finding them, they didn’t keep to any specific schedule, outside of classes, but after a bit of wandering, and asking their older brother – one of the Gryffindor prefects – he tracked them down to the second floor corridor just at the top of the stairs.

 

Even then, he might have missed them, if he hadn’t heard a crash coming from the boys bathroom right next to the girls bathroom that was always out of order.  Curious, he slipped inside to find water spraying from one of the bathroom stalls, and the twins rushing away toward the mirrors on wall opposite, water dripping from their robes as they spluttered and laughed.  “Maybe that wasn’t such a bright idea.” One of them said to the other, though they were both still grinning.

 

“Tepidaerus.”  The other said, swishing his wand before aiming it at his twin.  It looked as if hot air was blowing vigorously from the tip of his wand, causing his brother’s robes to flap and ripple for a brief moment as they dried.

 

“I’ve been looking for you two.” Harry spoke up once they’d both taken a turn drying each other off.

 

“We know.” Said one.  “We overheard you asking Percy.”

 

“Did you just blow up a toilet?” Harry glanced at the offending stall.

 

“It was mum’s idea really, isn’t that right Fred?”  George grinned mischievously.

 

“Yeah, you have her to thank; good ol’ mum.” Fred laughed, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure what the joke was.

 

“Maybe you should do it from farther away next time.  Won’t you get in trouble though?”  Harry mused aloud.

 

“Only if you go snitching on us, and if we thought you were a snitch we wouldn’t have blown it up when we knew you were looking for us.”

 

“Uh, if you heard me talking to your brother…”

 

“Percy.”

 

“Right, Percy.  Why didn’t you just come to me then?” Harry frowned, thinking about it, “Why make me run around all over the castle to find you?”  The twins grinned, and Harry realized that ‘running all over the castle’ was justification enough for the Weasleys; it must have been rather entertaining, though Harry certainly wasn’t amused.

 

“Give us some credit.”  Fred leaned against the mirror behind him, his robes now perfectly dry.  “You have ‘intrigue’ practically written on your face, we knew we’d be better off talking somewhere out of the way, even if we are starting a flood.”

 

“Speaking of which.” George added, “If the noise didn’t attract attention, the flooding soon will.  Maybe it’s time we were somewhere else?”

 

Harry agreed, and they slipped out of the bathroom and down the stairs.  And just in time too, Harry thought he heard footsteps pass the top of the stairs right as they were reaching the bottom.

 

“So what’s on your mind?” Fred asked him, once they popped into the Muggle Studies classroom, which was currently not in use.

 

Harry took a moment before replying, “I’ve been thinking about the troll, on Halloween.  I thought maybe someone let it in as a prank.” He explained.

 

“It wasn’t us.”  They said in unison.

 

“I didn’t say it was…” Harry protested their interruption.

 

Fred frowned, “Right… That’s not a very nice prank, any way you look at it.”

 

“Yeah I know; that’s why I didn’t think it was you.  But I thought if someone _did_ try to get a troll in the castle, or tried to sneak into the third floor corridor, I thought you might know about it.”

 

They looked mildly sheepish, but very thoughtful about Harry’s idea.  Finally George replied, after sharing a glance with his twin, “We hadn’t really considered that.  None of our usual mates would’ve done something like that, but I think an investigation is just the thing, we’ll be discreet of course.”

 

“I’d appreciate it.  I’ve got a bad feeling that someone’s up to no good.” Harry thanked them, and soon was heading back to his rooms to prepare for his Charms class.

 

* * * * *

 

He still hadn’t heard back from the twins by the end of the week.  The first quidditch match of the school year was first thing in the morning, and Harry wasn’t thinking about Snape, three-headed bears, secret packages, or leg injuries – at least not from three-headed bears.  If he hadn’t already been a little ahead on his class work he would have certainly fallen behind due to the extra practices and just general excitement and dread leading up to the game.

 

It didn’t help that Seamus Finnigan and Ron Weasley had been taunting him, explaining in gleeful detail all the different common injuries seekers were likely to sustain, and even some which weren’t so common but were quite vivid and frightening, along with a few of the more famous deaths in the history of quidditch.

 

Draco helped by throwing insults back at them, his tongue being particularly quick, and his timing perfect; which meant that he really wasn’t helping all, merely making things worse.  Though Harry _did_ get a kick out of a few of his taunts when they weren’t about Ron’s parentage or lack of money.

 

When Saturday morning finally came, Harry felt as if he’d barely slept, and couldn’t eat a bite at breakfast.  Marcus Flint didn’t help Harry’s nerves at all in the locker rooms either, “We have to win, you all got that?  I’ll hold each of you personally accountable for any screw ups.”  His glare trailed over each of them one at a time before he nodded, and he led the way out onto the field.

 

On the Quidditch pitch, Harry was overwhelmed by the noise of the crowd.  Someone in the Gryffindor stands had made a big banner with the words “Smash Slytherin!” on it, and a cleverly drawn and enchanted picture of Harry repeatedly flying face first into a tree with the snitch circling just out of reach.

 

They approached Madam Hooch in the center of the field, with the Gryffindor team coming from the opposite side.  Harry recognized their beaters – the Weasley twins – the Gryffindor captain and keeper, Oliver Wood, and their seeker Katie Bell.  It was common knowledge that Katie had been moved from chaser to seeker at the last minute.  The seven members of the reserves-less Gryffindor team faced off against the ten member strong Slytherin team – the sole unfilled position being the reserve seeker.

 

“Now, I want a nice clean game,” Madam Hooch began, looking pointedly at Flint, “from all of you.  For this match, Gryffindor will be considered the home team, and Slytherin the visitor,” she continued, “Which means that Captain Flint will call the coin toss.  Heads or beasts, Marcus?”  Marcus called beasts, and Hooch tossed the knut high in the air.  Harry watched it rise, spinning gracefully, then land in Hooch’s outstretched hand.  “Heads!” she announced.

 

“We choose North goal.”  Oliver Wood said immediately, before Hooch could ask him the official question.  She gave him a look, but said nothing on the matter.  Soon after, however, Hooch blew her silver whistle and they took to the air on their brooms up to their starting positions.  The match was just about ready to start.

 

Slytherin’s three reserve players retreated to their box as the other 14 players hovered in formation mid-air.  Hooch opened the box at her feet, released the bludgers and the snitch, and then held the quaffle ready to put into play between the lead chasers.

 

Harry tried to ignore the taunts from the stands.  The only ones who seemed to be supporting his team were the Slytherins, plus those few of his friends – such as Hagrid, who was sitting with the Gryffindors, but gave Harry a broad grin and a thumbs-up when he caught his eye.

 

Then, as if in slow motion, Madam Hooch threw the quaffle high into the air, her whistle sounded distantly, and the game was at long last underway.

 

Very quickly Harry’s sense of time seemed to speed back up as the lead Gryffindor chaser caught the quaffle out of the air, and sped off, tucking the red ball under her arm.  Harry watched as the game flashed into a blur of speeding uniforms, brooms, and balls.  “And the beautiful and talented Angelina Johnson takes the quaffle, racing towards the Slytherin goal!” Harry heard the announcer, Lee Jordan, call out.

 

Harry closed his eyes after an interminable moment and shook his head to clear it.  He gulped down a deep gasp of air then opened his eyes just in time to get sideswiped with a hard, but glancing blow, from a bludger.  He almost lost his grip on his broom, as the roar of laughter from the stands below made his ears turn red.  He thought even the Slytherins were laughing.

 

Determination overcame his momentary embarrassment as he deliberately rose up higher, and began sweeping the field for the snitch.  He flew slowly above the other players, pausing only briefly from time to time to deftly dodge a bludger sent his way by one of the Weasleys or getting out of the way of a high flying chaser who wasn’t watching for Harry.

 

Harry winced when Flint hurtled into Gryffindor’s lead chaser, and heard the commentator vehemently cry, “Foul! That cheating Flint just tried to knock Angelina…”

 

“None of that, Mr. Jordan.” Came McGonogall’s voice through Jordan’s voice amplifier.

 

  After Hooch confirmed the foul, the players returned to their starting positions, except for Angelina, Harry, and Gryffindor seeker, Katie Bell.  Angelina lined up for her penalty shot, and a moment later Jordan yelled, “Angelina Scores!” as the quaffle slipped past Miles Bletchley and through the top goal hoop.

 

The game had barely started again when Angelina was fouled a second time amidst a chorus of boos and jeers from Slytherins, and mostly laughter from the other houses.  Apparently Angelina had managed to get ‘blurted’ by Slytherin chaser, Adrian Pucey, who’d somehow unintentionally locked broom handles with her and steered them both off course.

 

Angelina wore a distinct smirk as she again took a penalty shot, and scored.  _This could be a really short game if this keeps up,_ thought Harry.  But there were no further fouls called for the next few minutes.  Some of the Slytherins were now keeping their distance from the clever and nimble Miss Johnson.

 

Suddenly, Harry was distracted by a flash of gold out of one corner of his eye, but when he turned, he couldn’t locate it.  He _did_ see Katie Bell flying low, as if _she’d_ spotted something, but she pulled up into a higher circuit a few feet from one of the Weasleys, with a frustrated pout.  It was then Harry saw one of Slytherin’s beaters – a fourth year boy named Lucian Bole – change course right behind her, and realized Lucian had been on a collision course with Katie.  Had she not pulled up, Lucian certainly would have fouled her, delivering a brutal check.

 

Harry gulped, coming to the unsettling realization that a seeker in concentrated pursuit of the snitch had better not forget to watch what was happening around him if he expected to avoid injury.  Many of the colorful and varied taunts over the last few weeks came back to him with a twinge.

 

“Alicia Spinnet Scores!” Lee Jordan’s amplified voice crowed over the roar of the crowd.  Harry turned to peer down at the field below to where the Slytherin keeper was shaking his head.  Play resumed shortly thereafter, and Peter Connolly, filling in briefly for beater Peregrine Derrik, almost fouled Angelina again.  She dodged, and Peter ended up on the ground just below his now riderless broom, much to the amusement of the non-Slytherins in the stands.

 

Just at that moment he heard a momentary buzzing in one ear.  His hand came up automatically to swat whatever it was away, but it was already gone.  It was only a second or two before he thought to double check, and found the tiny gold ball whizzing upwards away from him.  He bit his lip and shifted on his broom, putting on speed towards the object.  He forgot about everything but the winged snitch ahead of him.  It tried to dodge, as if deliberately anticipating Harry’s course, first zigging and then zagging as Harry’s broom rapidly closed the distance.

 

He was almost in range, his right hand outstretched in front of his broom, when he heard Jordan’s voice, “And here comes Bell, to steal the snitch!”  He glanced back behind him, and sure enough there was Katie on his tail, though she wasn’t nearly as fast as he was.  He swerved left to stay with the snitch, and noticed Bell taking an even sharper turn to cut directly into its path.

 

But when he next refocused forwards again, the snitch had vanished.  He whirled around in midair, and saw his rival seeker altering course to follow it.  He dove, laying flat against his broom, as the crowd below seemed to hold their collective breath.  Katie was closer, but her broom was no match for Harry’s Wind Chaser, and he snatched the ball out of the air just in front of her hand.

 

They would have collided if Harry hadn’t swerved, spinning around sideways on his broom, then grabbed Katie’s arm with his free hand to steady her when it appeared she was about to fall.  She looked startled as she opened her mouth as if to say something, but the crowd was going wild below; the Slytherins were cheering loudly, but even that was drowned out by the noise coming from the other stands.  Harry had impressed many, but most the school seemed to have come hoping Slytherin would lose.

 

As each team member reached the ground, they clapped Harry on the back and congratulated him and each other on a game well played.  Later they borrowed a room in the dungeons to celebrate.  Most of Slytherin was there, enjoying their team’s victory.

 

“You were really amazing!  Just wait till we can play together next year!” Draco cried with one arm draped across Harry’s shoulders.  People kept coming up to Harry to congratulate him, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to all this attention.

 

Eventually Harry found his way into an antechamber just off of the main room where the celebration was winding down, and sat alone on a bench in the much cooler and dimmer room.  He was relieved to get out of the press, and have a moment to himself.

 

The bench he sat on creaked loudly and Harry opened his eyes to see Hagrid settling beside him.  “Yer da’ woulda’ been proud.” The friendly man told him, a little flushed in the face, perhaps from coming to see him amidst all the Slytherins, who weren’t usually kind to him.

 

“Would he?  You said he was in Gryffindor.”  Harry wished he could remember his father, or his mother.

 

“He played too, ya know.” He told him, “Chaser for Gryffindor, was even cap’n ‘is last few years.”

 

“No. I didn’t know.” Harry blinked, “There’s so much I don’t know.”

 

“Yeh’ll learn, yer a’ready doing so well.  McGonagall tells me you’re great at transfiguration.  Jus’ like yer da’.”

 

“She says that?  She’s always so stern, and she took points away from me and Draco last week.  Well, I guess technically Snape took points away from me, for being out of the Slytherin dorms when we went to check on Quirrel.”

 

“When was that?” Hagrid asked, his shaggy brow furrowing.

 

“Halloween.  Quirrel fainted, remember?  Me and Draco figured the troll would be gone by then, and went to check on Quirrel.”

 

“Oh, right.” Hagrid shook his head, “Flitwick even took points away from Ron Weasley that night.  Anyone who snuck out were given a penalty o’ one point, Snape wasn’t singlin’ yer out er nothin’.”

 

“He took two points from me, Hagrid.”  Harry mumbled, remembering how sour the Potions Master had looked.  “He was in a bad mood, ‘cause he tried to get past the three-headed bear and it bit him.”

 

“Who tol’ ye about Fluffy?!” Hagrid protested, a little too loudly, as his raised voice drew one of the Slytherins through the door to investigate.  “Go back in, nothin’ ter see ‘ere.” Hagrid insisted, not allowing the conversation to continue until they were alone again.

 

“Fluffy?  That monster’s name is Fluffy?!” Harry was surprised, and a little aghast.

 

“O’course!  What’s wrong wi’ tha name Fluffy?  An’ he’s a dog, not a bear.  Who ever heard of a three-‘eaded bear?” he chuckled a little to himself.

 

“What’s it doing in the school?  That’s dangerous isn’t it?  Students could get hurt, or killed!”

 

“Never you mind.” Hagrid said sternly.  “Dumbledore gave a warnin’ at the beginning o’ tha term.  An’ so far no’uns even gotten past tha door.”

 

“Snape did, Draco saw him limping when he caught us on Halloween.”

 

“Tha’s enough.  I didn’a come ‘ere ta talk to yer about Fluffy.”  Harry sighed, and turned away.

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to bring up the be… I mean, uh… Fluffy…”

 

“Keep it ter yerself.  People will be thinkin’ I told ye, an’ I’d get in trouble.” Hagrid mumbled after a moment.

 

Harry nodded, and they sat in silence for several minutes, before Hagrid got to his feet.  “Go on, ‘ave some’at to eat.  I heard yer skipped yer breakfast, an’ there’s some good snacks ‘ere at the party, but I dunno how long it’ll last.”

 

They rejoined the others, and Harry tried his best to enjoy himself.  He mostly succeeded, but he didn’t forget what Hagrid had mentioned while they had been talking.  He held his tongue until he and Draco could discuss it alone later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my father, a sports and writing enthusiast, who assisted me in writing what I hope is a very interesting quidditch match.
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	6. Chapter 5 – A Wizarding Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is fast approaching, and Harry has some definite surprises and new mysteries in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere and mild violence. No cussing, no adult situations.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

By the next day Harry and Draco had discussed what Harry had learned regarding the three headed beast.  They spent part of the morning going over their homework, to make sure they hadn’t made any mistakes or fallen behind during the hectic week leading up to the previous day’s quidditch game.

 

At breakfast, Harry had a bit of a surprise, when three of the girls from the Gryffindor quidditch team approached the Slytherin table where he sat with Draco.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Draco asked accusingly, earning hard looks from two of the girls.

 

Katie Bell, however, ignored Draco, and was focused on Harry, but before she could say whatever she’d come to say, Harry blurted, “I’m sorry for almost hitting you.” Harry winced; _That was lame_ , he thought the moment he said it.

 

“Oh no.”  She colored a pretty shade of rose, “I came here to thank you.  You didn’t have to catch me, you could easily have fallen too just trying.  I’m afraid I’m not a very good seeker.”

 

“I thought you did fine.” Harry replied.  “You almost caught the snitch; my broom was just a little faster that’s all.”

 

“I was supposed to be a chaser.” She muttered, still blushing as she started to babble.  “But no one else in Gryffindor was up to playing seeker, so they switched me, and let Emily Taylor on the team as a chaser, and she didn’t do much during the game…”

 

“I’m sorry.” Harry winced again.  “I’m sure you’ll both do better in your next game.”

 

“You’re a lot nicer than I expected.” She added, and it was Harry’s turn to blush.  “Anyways, congratulations on your win.  I’ll see you later.”

 

Harry didn’t know what else to say, and after a moment he lost his chance, as the girls turned and headed back to the Gryffindor table.  He turned to find Draco watching him with a bemused expression.  “I think she likes you, Harry.” He teased.

 

“Oh shove off!” Harry’s face burned as he focused on his food and resumed eating.  He really didn’t know what he thought of the idea of a Gryffindor liking him, especially when she was basically his quidditch rival.  Draco didn’t leave it alone though, at least not until something else came along to distract him in the form of Ron Weasley.

 

“Bet you think you’re really special, don’t you?  I think you’re just lucky.” Ron taunted them as they walked toward the staircase after breakfast.  It was the first time they’d run into him in the halls without Finnigan nearby.

 

“You’d be even luckier if you made it onto your house’s team.” Draco snapped right back.  “You’d have to win a raffle, just to afford another broom.  Bet your brothers had to save up twig by twig to get theirs, or maybe they just stole them?!”

 

“I’m tired of your lip, Malfoy!” Ron growled, his hands balling into fists.

 

“Knock it off.” Harry urged his friend, but Ron wasn’t finished yet.

 

“I heard your da’ was a death eater, but was too much of a coward to even own up to it when You-Know-Who disappeared!”

 

“Father is _not_ a coward!  He’s a better man than your blood traitor father will ever be!”

 

It was Ron who threw the first punch.  He and Draco went down in a heap, and Harry rushed to grab them, and pull them apart.  Draco tried to draw his wand, but there wasn’t time, or room.  Harry got ahold of a sleeve – he wasn’t sure who’s – and shoved at Ron with his foot while his friend smacked an elbow into the red head’s face, and Ron grabbed at Draco’s hair.

 

They weren’t the only ones in the halls.  Students were stopping to gape at the three of them as Harry stumbled back, losing his balance when Ron yanked his sleeve from Harry’s grasp.  Ron then tried to sock Draco only to smash his fist into the stone tiles.  A voice pierced their melee and sent chills down Harry’s spine.  Somehow, Snape managed to make himself heard over their ruckus without even speaking loudly, “What, pray tell, is going on here?”  The three of them froze, not even wanting to look up.  “Explain yourself, Potter, you should know there’s no fighting at Hogwarts.”

 

“I didn’t…”  Harry had been trying to stop the fight, so why did it have to be Snape who caught them, of all people?

 

“It was me, professor…”  Draco offered in an uncharacteristically meek tone.  His hair was for once completely disheveled, and Ron looked as if he was going to have a black eye.

 

Harry was floored.  Draco had never stuck up for anyone else before, and certainly had never gone out of his way to get himself in trouble when he could blame it on someone else.  Snape looked startled too.

 

“Harry wasn’t fighting; Weasley started it, and Harry was just trying to stop us…”  He was red-faced, bruised, and scraped, and his hair was in disarray, but Harry thought it was just about the best thing Draco had ever done.  He smiled despite himself, careful to try and hide it from Snape so as not to draw any further attention.

 

“He called Draco’s dad a dead eater, and a coward…”  Harry explained, though he had no idea what a dead eater was.  Snape raised an eyebrow, looking at Ron, who hastily got to his feet under the Potion Master’s scrutiny.

 

“Draco started it.” He protested, “He called me…!”

 

“I might have known.” The Professor interrupted him, “You Weasleys are always getting into mischief.  Ten points from Gryffindor.”

 

“But that’s not fair, I wasn’t…!”  Ron cried, his face coloring crimson beneath his freckles.

 

“And another two points for your cheek.” He added.  Harry noticed Draco was grinning as he stood and brushed off his robes as well as he could.

 

“Draco, I suggest you visit the hospital wing, and get yourself looked at.  You as well, Weasley, before Filch finds you bleeding on his floor.” Snape finished, before sweeping past the three of them.  Nearby Slytherins were snickering and Ron ran off looking even more angry and ashamed than Draco had just a moment before.

 

“I can’t believe you took the blame for me.” Harry said, though the whole encounter had left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

 

Draco looked a little taken aback, “It was only the truth, besides I didn’t get a single point taken away.”

 

“Of course, that was pretty rotten what you said to Ron.” Harry muttered as they descended the staircase to go back to their rooms.

 

“I thought it was brilliant.” Draco chuckled.  “If anyone else but Snape had…”

 

“Why are you so nasty to the Weasley’s?”  Harry ground his teeth.  He felt a frustrated fury for no particular reason he could put his finger on.  He was uncertain where his own vehemence was coming from.  “You know Fred and George are my friends, and they’re helping us find out about what Fluffy is guarding.”

 

“I don’t… wait, Fluffy?!”  Draco just stared at him confused.

 

“Fluffy.  It’s… the three-headed dog’s name.”  Harry realized he had neglected a few details of his conversation with Hagrid.

 

“Fluffy?!  Seriously?  Who calls a monster like that, _Fluffy_?”  By this point they were just outside the entrance to the Slytherin wing, and Harry stopped short so they wouldn’t be rushing through the common room while having this conversation.

 

“Hagrid, apparently.” Harry sighed, “But that’s beside the point.  What’s wrong with you and the Weasleys?”

 

“Father doesn’t…”

 

“I didn’t ask about your father.  Why do _you_ hate them?”

 

Draco was at a loss for words, and after a moment, Harry turned and stormed inside.  He doubted he’d get an answer to that one, anyway.  He grabbed his broom, and walked back out.  Draco was still standing where Harry had left him.  Still offering no answer as Harry walked past.

 

Some time practicing alone out on the quidditch pitch cleared Harry’s head a bit.  He and Draco weren’t getting any more studying done this morning, that was certain.  When he returned to the castle, he had to go looking for Draco; he wasn’t in the Slytherin wing.  He found him wandering an upstairs corridor.

 

“I’m sorry.” He began, as Draco looked up at the sound of his approach.

 

“For what?” Draco looked wary, and still a little confused.

 

“For snapping at you.  Ron does come looking for trouble, and he’s been a jerk to the both of us.  So… I’m sorry!  I don’t know why I was so mad at you.”

 

“No, you were right.  I don’t know why I hate all the Weasleys.  I’ll try to give Fred and George a chance, since they’re friends of yours, but…”

 

He paused and Harry almost laughed at the expression of distaste on Draco’s face, it wasn’t really funny though, so he held his tongue, “You don’t _have_ to make friends with Ron.” Harry assured him, before Draco had even voiced the thought.  “And… I have to ask.  What do blood traitor and dead eater mean, anyways?”

 

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco exclaimed, “I keep forgetting how much you don’t know.  He took a moment to sort out his thoughts, and made sure no one else was about.  “Come on, we need to go over our herbology notes.  I’ll tell you on the way back to our room.”

 

* * * * *

 

The weather was quickly turning cold.  It was only a few days later that Draco had a chance to make good on his promise to try and befriend the Weasley twins.  Harry had put on his robe, only to find that something scratchy had attached itself inside the collar.  Frustrated by his attempts to remove it, he finally took off his robe completely during break in his room, and found a note written on pale yellow paper.

 

We found out some things we thought you’d like to know.  Meet us just after lunch at the second floor bathroom, the one with the broken toilet, and we’ll explain our findings.

F&GW

P.S. This note won’t come off until you say the word, “Marauder”.

 

Sure enough as he read the last word aloud the note detached from the neck of his robe and fluttered to the floor.  Harry sighed.  It seemed just like them to send him a pranked note about a serious subject.  He waited until Draco returned to their room as well, and told him about the note, insisting he come along with him this time.

 

Draco reluctantly agreed, and so after lunch, they walked together up the stairs to the second floor corridor.  Draco hung back just a little as Harry went inside and looked around to find his friends, half expecting them to jump out and scare him just for kicks.  He just hoped Draco would be nice, and the twins wouldn’t antagonize him.

 

“You’re early.” The twins came in right behind Draco, and both he and Harry spun around to confront them.

 

“You didn’t give us an exact time.” Harry said, noting how the two Weasley’s and Draco were all regarding each other a bit warily.  No doubt they’d already heard about their fight with Ron earlier.

 

“So what did you find out?” Harry added, when no one responded right away.

 

Fred and George looked at each other, and shrugged simultaneously before one of them began, “Well, our younger brother was out of the tower at least briefly, so we talked to him first.  Snape’s pretty rotten to him,”  “Mostly on account of us,” The other twin supplied mid sentence, “and he saw Snape acting kinda suspicious.  Ron saw him heading up the stairs, instead of down towards the dungeon where the Troll was supposed to be.”

 

“But it turns out the troll was actually upstairs somewhere too.” The first twin picked up the narrative again.  “And Ron ran from it and didn’t follow Snape any further.”

 

Harry gave Draco a meaningful look, certain this proved his theory that Snape was up to no good.

 

“Tell them what you found out, George.”  Fred said, after a brief pause.

 

“This is where it gets interesting.  Did you know that Quirrel is an old hand dealing with trolls?”

 

“Yes actually.”  Harry said in the same moment Draco said, “Of course we do.”

 

“Well, Quirrel was somewhere upstairs too.  Penelope Clearwater saw him, and it wasn’t very near where Ron saw the troll; they were on the third floor, near the forbidden corridor.”

 

“ _Quirrel_ was?” Draco seemed to latch onto that, even though Harry thought the idea of Quirrel deliberately going near Fluffy was pretty impossible to imagine.  “Maybe he’s the one Snape saved?!”

 

“Say what?” Both twins said at once, then Fred continued, “Snape saved someone?”

 

“That’s just Draco’s theory.  We still don’t know much of anything.”  Harry was glad things had gone smoothly so far, but wasn’t sure he wanted to linger and push his luck.

 

“There’s more.” George assured them, and Harry and Draco waited expectantly looking back and forth for one or both of them to continue.

 

“McGonagall was seen by Andrew Stebbins,”

 

“He’s a Hufflepuff,” George supplied.

 

“ _Also_ going upstairs rather urgently.  It seems they may have all run into each other near the third floor corridor on the right hand side.

 

“So, in conclusion…?”

 

Here George finished for him again, “There were _several_ students out of the dorms on Halloween, most of which were caught and docked points, but at least _three_ of the teachers thought there was something more interesting above ground than in the dungeons.”

 

“Wow.  Thanks a lot.” Harry said, his mind buzzing with possibilities.

 

“Glad we could help.” They said as one, “Gave us plenty to think about too.”

 

Then George added, “We’ll keep our eyes open for anything else suspicious.  Should we be looking more at the teachers, or the students, do you think?  And what do you suppose is so interesting on the third floor corridor?”

 

“Both, I think.” Draco replied, evidently not wanting to rule out the possibility of Snape rescuing a student.

 

“Well, your turn!” Fred told them, “What do you know that we don’t?”

 

“We could tell you.” Harry said, but quickly added, “Promise to keep it a secret?”

 

“What do you take us for?”  “We’re not about to go blabbing to anyone.”

 

“There’s a giant three-headed dog in a locked room on the third floor, and it’s guarding something.  It may have bitten Snape on Halloween.  We’re trying to figure out what it’s guarding, and why Snape was there.”  Harry explained, “Also, there was a break in at Gringotts on my birthday,”

 

“Yeah, we heard about that in the Prophet.  Can’t imagine who’d have dared something like that, we know better than to cross goblins.”

 

Harry nodded, but continued, “Well what you probably _didn’t_ hear was that it was Hagrid who emptied the vault.  I was with him when he did it.  There wasn’t much in there, just a tiny package, and I don’t know what was in it, but we suspect it might be what Fluffy is guarding.”

 

“Fluffy is what Hagrid named the three-headed dog.” Draco explained, before the twins could ask.

 

“Fluffy?  Really?!  Figures.” The twins said together.

 

“Well, if it involves getting Snape in trouble, you can definitely count us in.” Fred assured them, and George agreed emphatically.  Soon Harry and Draco made their excuses.  It was getting close to time for class, and they all hurried back to their dorms to gather their things.

 

He and Draco discussed theories in low tones the whole way back.  They’d seen the three teachers described coming down the stairs together, and hadn’t really thought about _why_ that might have been.  Even if the troll _had_ wandered upstairs before it was subdued, at least Snape had been seen going up ahead of it.  One or more of them could have been heading off the other, and even Draco agreed that the likelihood of the timid stuttering Quirrel trying to get past the three-headed dog was pretty slim.

 

By the time they got back to their rooms, they were running a little late for their next class, but they’d also determined that either Snape really was after the treasure Fluffy was guarding, or else McGonagall was.  And while they’d never pegged McGonagall as the sinister type, she was intimidating enough that they couldn’t rule her out either.

 

Another possibility that Draco brought up – no doubt with the intent of preserving Snape’s integrity – was that the three teachers had individually been heading off some fourth party, such as a student or another teacher, at the third floor corridor, but had come back down the stairs together.

 

* * * * *

 

Time seemed to flow rather oddly as winter fast approached.  There were times when Harry felt every agonizing moment as they studied their school work, or theorized on the puzzles they’d unearthed.  Then there were times that seemed to just pass without Harry’s notice.  Draco said he had a plan to get some more information on their mystery, but he needed time to fine-tune the idea, and maddeningly, wouldn’t tell Harry the specifics.

 

Two weeks before the winter break, Professor Snape had come around the Slytherin house with a sheet for students to sign if they were staying for the holidays.  Harry had been about to put his name down, thinking he’d rather stay at Hogwarts than go home to Privet Drive, but Draco stopped him.

 

“I already asked Father.  We’re inviting you to spend Christmas with us at Malfoy Manor.”  He said.  “Severus is coming too.  Right?” He added, looking up at Snape.

 

Snape looked irritated, but didn’t seem to be directing it at Draco.  “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to this year.” He said slowly, and Draco looked rather disappointed.  “You will give my regards to your mother and father though, and convey my regrets that I could not accept their invitation.”

 

Secretly, Harry wondered if Snape didn’t want to be around him, and that was the real reason why he wasn’t coming.  But Harry thought the idea of spending Christmas with Draco and his family was fabulous, and agreed immediately that he would, of course, come.

 

There were preparations to be made, in the last week before the holiday break, and Harry was nervous for several reasons.  First, he knew the Malfoy’s could be very particular and prideful, and he wanted to make a good impression on them as a house guest.  He worried about the state of his clothes and other belongings he’d be bringing, but also wondered if he ought to brush up on his manners.  His aunt had tried to instill something akin to manners into him, but Harry hadn’t learned much, and wasn’t sure any of the Dursley’s ideas of manners – mostly involving keeping to himself, and trying not to be noticed by guests – would be much help with the Malfoy’s.

 

When he mentioned his concerns to Draco, they determined that Harry would get a few impromptu etiquette lessons.  Draco first asked what Harry already knew then promptly told him to forget it all.  Harry took notes, as Draco explained various things, from dining room manners, to the proper titles to use for different guests at a social event.

 

That part was a little tricky, but it was about what Harry had expected.  What he didn’t expect was for Draco to throw him a surprise dinner party in the Slytherin common room the last Friday before break to test how much he’d learned.  He’d invited several of his ‘important friends’, mostly other Slytherins whose family’s were friends with the Malfoys.  Harry was nervous and a bit uncertain, at first, but managed to get through the evening without embarrassing himself.  Draco’s guests were surprisingly friendly and helpful, offering etiquette suggestions and gradually setting Harry at ease.

 

With that behind him, he felt much less anxious about spending time with Draco and his family.

 

As the break was almost upon them, Harry found another concern.  He worried that something important would happen regarding the three-headed dog, and the mystery of whatever it was guarding while they were gone.  But so far, they’d had no new leads, and there didn’t seem to be much they could do until they found out more, so he couldn’t think of a compelling reason to change their plans.

 

The train back to London was far less eventful than Harry’s first trip on the Hogwart’s Express, and this time he and Draco actually finished their game of wizard’s chess.  Harry lost, of course, but still enjoyed playing, and felt he was starting to improve.  Then came platform nine and three quarters, and like before, Harry was a bundle of nerves, this time for entirely different reasons.

 

“It’s very good to see you again, Mr. Potter.” Lucius Malfoy greeted him somewhat stiffly when they found him on the platform next to his gracefully smiling wife.

 

“Thank you for inviting me.” Harry replied, grateful that his voice didn’t betray his unease.

 

Draco could hardly wait to start telling his parents about all they’d been up to at Hogwarts, though he didn’t talk about the mystery surrounding Fluffy, the elusive package, or the people or persons who might be trying to get past the dog and steal whatever it was guarding.

 

Harry left his things on the train along with Draco’s, assured that it would be brought to the manor ahead of them.  They moved through King’s Cross station leisurely while Draco talked, and both his parents regarded Harry from time to time.  Harry wasn’t pressured to join in the conversation just yet, and he welcomed the chance to relax and listen to them.  He was surprised, however, when they didn’t leave the station itself, but instead walked through a door labeled ‘staff only’ and into a small set of secluded rooms.

 

He suppressed the momentary instinct to ask what they were doing in here, when he saw another Hogwarts student ahead of them – standing with an obvious relative – rather suddenly disappear, their forms twisting and shrinking in the blink of an eye.  “What was that?” he couldn’t help asking.

 

“They apparated.” Mrs. Malfoy explained.  “But we’ve arranged for a more comfortable transport.” She added when Draco looked mildly alarmed.

 

They moved into the adjoining room, where a man looked up at them from behind his desk, then got to his feet.  “Ah, Lord Malfoy, I was told to expect you.  The portkey is ready.” He added while opening a filing cabinet and lifting out a small object on a stand covered with a velvet cloth.

 

Harry found himself curiously fascinated as the object was set on the desk and the cloth whisked off of it.  The object turned out to be a little statuette of a coiled silver snake with emerald eyes.  “All at once now.” The man added.

 

“Just put a hand firmly on the statue.” Narcissa told Harry softly.  He did as he was asked, and placed his hand with theirs on the statuette.  He felt a little chill raise the hair on the back of his neck when his fingers brushed the cool metal.

 

At first, nothing happened.  The man behind the desk checked his watch and opened his mouth to say something, but in that very instant, Harry felt a very peculiar sensation, as if something was latching onto his spine just behind his belly, and tugging him forward rather forcefully.  It wasn’t painful, but it was more than a little disorienting.  Everything blurred around him, and he thought he saw colors racing past at high speed.

 

As suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped, and he was standing in a dimly lit spacious room.  The only light came from the tall windows, which framed a cloudy grey sky, in stark contrast to the sunny sky at the station.

 

“That was…” Harry swayed, and Narcissa put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

 

“I much prefer portkeys to apparation.” Draco said, “It just takes a little getting used to is all.”

 

“I think… I prefer my broom.” Harry muttered to himself.

 

Lucius chuckled and Harry blushed; he hadn’t meant that to be overheard.  Then Lucius waved his cane, and a gleaming silver chandelier above them lit up all at once.  Harry saw they were in a library.  “Master.”  Came a high pitched voice from the doorway.  “Master Draco’s and Master Harry’s things are in their rooms.”

 

Harry saw a small creature with long pointed ears, a bulbous nose and wide luminous eyes staring straight at Harry.  It wore a sack draped over its skinny frame, its large hands held in front of it, worrying its own fingers nervously.  “Very well, Dobby, now go attend to your chores.” Lucius dismissed the thing, but it kept glancing back at Harry.  He got the distinct impression it would have liked to stay and watch him longer.

 

“That was your… house elf?” Harry asked Draco.  His friend had told him a little about house elves, and having seen this one, Harry was less certain about the idea that Dobby actually _enjoyed_ serving.  It had looked timid and more than a little pitiful to Harry’s mind.

 

“Yeah, that’s Dobby.” Draco agreed dismissively, as he led Harry through the entry hall.  Though certainly not as large as the entrance at Hogwarts, the Malfoy’s entry was far more ornate with gilt handrails on the staircase, and a shining chandelier even more elaborate than the one in the library.  Even the furniture was fancy.  The cloak stand took their coats with only a mild creaking of its wooden arms before they ascended the stairs so Draco could show him his room.

 

Draco opened the door and with an exaggerated bow gesturing through the doorway as he intoned in as deep a voice as he could muster, “Your room, sir!”  Harry giggled, and just like that, all his unease disappeared, and they both started laughing like the girls in their year at school.  “My room’s just down the hall here.” Draco finally managed to say, wiping away a few stray tears.

 

Harry gasped when he finally made it through the door of his room.  It was bigger than Dudley’s two rooms combined, and had a huge four poster bed.  All of Harry’s things were there, and some of it was even unpacked and in the wardrobe.  He looked around for a bit, with Draco grinning as he observed Harry’s reaction.

 

“This is amazing!” Harry thanked his friend, and then ran back down the stairs two at a time to thank Lucius and Narcissa as well.

 

“Thank you very much for the room, and for inviting me, again.” He told them in a rush.

 

“Aren’t you just the most polite little thing?” Narcissa smiled at him, and even Lucius looked more pleasant.  “You’re very welcome, now go enjoy yourself, there are no lessons or chores here, so you can do whatever you like with Draco.  He tells us you’re quite handy on a broom, so why don’t the two of you fly together around the grounds?  Just stay clear of the woods, we think there’s a boggart that has taken up residence at the old cabin out there, and you wouldn’t want to run into one of those.”

 

“We’ll keep that in mind.  Thank you Mrs. Malfoy.” She smiled as he went back up the stairs, to share Narcissa’s suggestion with Draco.  “Where’s my broom?” Harry wondered aloud as Draco led him back down the stairs.

 

“In the broom closet, of course.” Draco led Harry to a door set to one side of the main entry hall.

 

“Oh, right.” Harry felt sheepish, at least until Draco opened the small door.  Then Harry’s eyes widened at the sight in front of him.  When Draco had mentioned a ‘broom closet’ Harry had envisioned anything but this.  There was room for them to walk into the closet, and there were brooms of every description along all three walls.  Harry’s Wind Chaser was there, next to Draco’s Nimbus Seventeen Forty-Seven.  There were old brooms in glass cases, and newer brooms along racks. There were modern brooms like he’d see in his aunt’s kitchen, as well as rugged twisted brooms with worn wood handles and real straw tails.

 

Soon, the two of them were outside racing and practicing quidditch maneuvers around the frigid countryside, and finally daring one another to skirt the edge of the woods and fly back toward the house.

 

“I’m going to ask my father for a better broom.” Draco told Harry, once they got back inside.  “Your Wind Chaser has much better turning, and is faster to boot.”  They were heading upstairs after putting their booms away when Harry spotted a pair of large round eyes staring at him through a gap in the doorway they were passing.  He turned to wave at Dobby, but the house elf disappeared the moment he realized Harry was looking.  _How curious._

 

“You don’t really need an expensive broom though.”  Harry argued.  “And you can use mine whenever you like.  I only got it because I made the team, you know.”

 

Draco did not look mollified in the least.  “I’ll need to practice so I can get on the team next year.  And for that I’ll need a decent broom.”

 

“That Nimbus _is_ a decent broom.  From what I’ve seen it’s better than the brooms most the quidditch players use, certainly better than the Clean Sweep Katie Bell uses.”  He remembered how his broom had outperformed his rival’s during their first quidditch match.

 

“I’ll ask Father what he thinks,” Draco countered, “If he thinks I should get a new broom, then that’ll be that.” Harry sighed, and decided to just let the matter drop, but he thought Draco was only doing it because he was jealous of Harry’s broom, and he didn’t find it very becoming.

 

* * * * *

 

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Harry spent much of it exploring.  The manor seemed to have many secrets, and the land around the manor went on for miles.  It was a little lonely, but Harry was still very glad to be there, and despite everything it was still far better than any Christmas Harry had shared with the Dursleys growing up.

 

Dinner that evening was impressive – even when compared with the banquets served at Hogwarts.  The food was artfully arranged on each plate.  The portions were small, aromatic, and delicious.  Everyone ate slowly, savoring every bite, and Harry managed to remember each of his etiquette lessons.  Even the usually voracious Draco was in no hurry here.  As each serving was finished, the plate disappeared and a small goblet of some fruit nectar or cream beverage appeared next to his water glass, which never emptied no matter how much he drank from it.  Harry suspected Narcissa and Lucius’ drinks were fine wines, rather than juice.  Once he’d had a chance to sample his drink, another small indescribably tasty dish would appear.  And the food kept coming.

 

Harry was discovering that Narcissa was stern, but had a kind streak her husband lacked.  Lucius, on the other hand, although very intelligent, came across as haughty, yet still treated Harry as an equal and engaged in conversation with him as an adult, the same as he tended to do with his own son.  Harry found himself growing fond of them as he never had with the Dursleys.

 

“So, Draco tells me that you do not get along well with Professor Snape, but that you’re doing well in his Potions class despite this.”  Lucius said to Harry about half way through their meal.  “Severus is a good friend of the family, so I could speak with him on your behalf if you would like me to.”

 

“I don’t know.”  Harry was uncertain how much to tell Draco’s father about their suspicions concerning Snape.  Draco still didn’t believe Snape might be behind the troll incident, but Harry thought it was a strong possibility.  “Maybe he just needs to get to know me better.  I wouldn’t want him to think I was going over his head or anything.  You _are_ one of the Hogwarts Governors after all.”

 

“A valid point.  I was going to send him a letter anyways since he won’t be joining us for Christmas this year.  Perhaps I will simply mention you favorably.”  Harry would have preferred to just leave the matter alone, but couldn’t bring himself to disagree with Lucius’ idea, whereupon the conversation turned to quidditch.

 

“It’s really quite impressive.” Narcissa praised Harry, “To be allowed to not only try out, but that they made you a first string seeker, is an accomplishment no other boy alive can boast of.  Do you recollect anything quite like Harry?” She turned towards her husband as she finished.

 

“No.  He is quite unique.” Lucius replied.  “In many ways.”

 

“I’m the _only_ seeker.” Harry informed them, “There was a girl who tried out for Seeker, and she should have at least made reserve, but Flint wouldn’t let her on the team.  I don’t know why, but they seemed to not like each other much.”

 

“Sounds like a prior history.  Maybe they used to date.” Narcissa mused, smiling.  “But in many ways that’s good for you, Harry.  That means you don’t have to share the spotlight.  Seekers are already accredited with many wins in quidditch – since the snitch is so challenging to catch, and worth so many points – so that means you’re going to often be the hero, Harry.”

 

“Hadn’t thought of it like that.”  Harry agreed, “Still, I think it would have been fairer to let her on the team.  She was pretty good, and quite a bit more experienced than I am.” Harry shrugged, “And what if I’m injured, or the game is long and I need a breather?”

 

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” Narcissa told him.  “Try not to worry too much, Quidditch at Hogwarts is not nearly as competitive as professional sports, otherwise they’d _require_ the teams to have a full compliment of reserve players.”

 

No one said anything for a few minutes after that, so Harry decided to change the subject.  “You should see the decorations they were putting up for Christmas at Hogwarts.  Hagrid brought in a bunch of trees, and there were enchanted candles, and little stars floating in the air.”

 

“It sounds quite spectacular.” Lucius intoned, sipping at his drink.

 

“Oh it was, Father.  Hey, did I tell you that Hagrid is really rather nice?  He’s not nearly as dangerous as you thought he might be.”  Draco added.

 

“Not nearly as dangerous?” Lucius raised one thin eyebrow, but Draco was not to be deterred.

 

“He’s our friend, and he’s a little odd, but, he’s probably the most gentle person I’ve ever met.  I was a little surprised, but Harry said I should get to know him for myself.  I bet if you got to know him better, you’d agree.”

 

“I’ve known him for some time, Draco.”  The tall man responded, “And though I haven’t spent a great deal of time in his company, I believe I understand his character well enough.  Giants are notorious for their violent and unpredictable nature, and that game keeper obviously has some giant blood.  I’m not sure I like the idea of you associating with him, even at Harry’s behest.”

 

“Now Lucius.” Narcissa interjected, “Harry has a valid point.  In urging Draco to spend some time with Hagrid, he’s given our son the opportunity to judge people on his own.  I think it’s important for him to gain experience in this, even if some of the people he might associate with are not the most influential or prominent.  We must have allies among all sorts, after all.”

 

“You are correct, as always, my love.” Lucius smiled at his wife, and the conversation turned to other things for a time.  Soon after that, dinner was over and Draco was heading up the stairs with Harry.

 

Once more, Harry caught sight of a pair of eyes watching him through the crack of a door, and this time he excused himself from Draco and went to investigate.  He wanted to learn more about Dobby the house elf.

 

“Hello?” he called into the dim room, looking around.  It wasn’t hard to spot the light reflecting from Dobby’s large eyes.  “How come you always hide when I see you?” Harry added after a moment, moving closer.

 

“Master commands that Dobby is to stay out of Master Harry’s way while he is here.  Dobby is to leave Master Harry alone.”  Came the soft reply.  “Master Malfoy can be very cross, and Dobby does not wish to displease him.”

 

“It’s fine.  I actually want to say hello.” Harry said, sitting down a little ways away, on the floor, and hoping he wouldn’t frighten the nervous creature back into hiding.  “Draco tells me you really enjoy working for the Malfoys.  Is that true?”

 

The answer was a little while in coming, with Dobby fidgeting nervously for a moment before replying, “Dobby enjoys the work, but sometimes Dobby is bad, and Dobby doesn’t enjoy the punishments.  Dobby cannot always help himself.  He doesn’t mean to disobey, or make mistakes.”

 

“Everyone makes mistakes.  I guess the punishments are so you learn from them.”  Dobby nodded emphatically.  “So what sorts of things do you do for the Malfoys?”

 

“All sorts of things.” Dobby seemed to be warming up to Harry quickly, “Dobby transports the luggage, and cleans parts of the house.  Dobby is in charge of transferring the plates during meals, and looking after Master Draco when he travels on his own.  Dobby is kept very busy, and rarely has time to fret or waste.”

 

“And you enjoy all this?  They really make you carry things all the time?”

 

“Not carry.  Dobby moves things with elf magic.” He demonstrated by pointing a finger, and causing several chairs to rise up in the air, and move around the room before settling back down.  “The work is not taxing, but Dobby is glad to stay busy.”  Suddenly the house elf’s ears twitched and he cocked his head to one side.

 

“Dobby is sorry, Dobby does not want to be seen bothering Master Potter.”  But before Harry could assure him he wasn’t bothering him in the least, the elf winked out of sight with a pop, and just a moment before the door was opened further and Lucius looked inside.

 

Harry quickly got up off the floor and dusted his pants.  “What are you doing here in my study?” Lucius asked, not sounding exceptionally pleased.

 

“I was…”  Harry didn’t want to get Dobby in trouble, and he saw a number of books and other things set about on tables and on a small bookshelf, so made up a quick lie.  “Just looking at your books.” He said, picking one up at random from the nearby desk.

 

“There are plenty in the library.”  Lucius told him, “Please do not come poking around in my study without asking me first.”  He’d moved across the room and snatched the book from Harry before he could read any of it, though he wasn’t liable to do much of that, seeing as the pages he’d thumbed through were all blank, as far as he could tell.

 

Lucius proceeded to place the book into the top most desk drawer, along with a ring and two more books which had been on the desk, and locked it with a resounding click of a small black key.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”  Harry ducked his head, flushing heatedly.  He wondered what was so interesting about a blank book.

 

“It is understandable.  I know how curious young boys can be.  Next time, ask Draco, he’s quite familiar with what is disallowed and inadvisable at Malfoy Manor.”

 

“I’ll do that, sir.” Harry nodded without meeting Lucius’ gaze, and hurried toward the door.  Draco’s father caught up to him in the hall.

 

“I’m not angry at you, Mr. Potter.  Simply concerned, there are some things here which could prove hazardous if you do not know how to handle them properly.  I am sure you can understand.  Please keep that in mind.”

 

“I’ll do that, sir.  I promise.” Harry replied, feeling a little better.

 

“And there’s no need to stand on formality with me, Harry.  You’re Draco’s friend; you can call me Lucius, or Mr. Malfoy, if you must.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry gave him a smile, thinking it would sound a little odd to call this man by his first name, when he really didn’t know him all that well yet.

 

“Now run along, you’ll no doubt want to get to sleep early; there will be presents in the morning when you wake up.  Sleep well.”

 

Harry did just that, chatting briefly with Draco before heading off to his room to make ready to sleep.  He thought about Dobby as he was drifting off, and about the mysterious blank book he’d picked up, but when he woke, neither was on his mind as he rushed to Draco’s room, and almost ran into his friend when he emerged into the hall.

 

“Happy Christmas, Draco!” Harry shouted.

 

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”  Draco replied, then the two of them ran down the stairs, both still in their morning robes.  Harry gasped as they came into the parlor, where a large tree had been set up and decorated, and was overflowing with presents underneath and around, and even among its branches.

 

“Merry Christmas.” Narcissa greeted them, already dressed and sitting in a comfortably soft chair close to the little blaze in the fireplace.

 

Lucius joined them a few minutes later, and they were finally allowed to start opening presents.  Draco had quite a bit more than Harry, but Harry’s pile was much larger than he would ever have expected.  Harry’s first present turned out to be a homemade wooden flute from Hagrid.  When he tried blowing into it the sound was a bit like an owl hooting.

 

He also opened a small package with a fifty-pence piece, and a terse note from his aunt and uncle.  He wasn’t terribly surprised at the small offering, but pocketed it anyways.

 

Meanwhile Draco had opened a package with a brand new broomstick from his father.  “A Nimbus Two-Thousand One?!” Draco gasped, “I thought these were only available for pre-order?”

 

“I managed to acquire an advance model.” Lucius explained, “I realized you’d be chaffing at not being able to own your own broom at school this year, and I figured the wait would be easier if you knew you’d be able to bring this to school next year.”

 

“What do you say, Draco?” Narcissa interjected.

 

“Thank you Father.  I wanted to ask if I could get a new broom, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.  Thank you very much!”

 

“You’re welcome, Draco.” Lucius smiled indulgently at his son, while he and his wife opened cards from some of their many acquaintances.

 

Narcissa got a lovely pearl necklace from Draco, the pearls a pale white color which almost matched the color of his and Lucius’ hair. “Oh, I’m sorry!”  Harry blurted, realizing his terribly rude mistake, “I didn’t get anything for the two of you.  I… I…”

 

“That’s quite alright.” Mrs. Malfoy assured him, “Tomorrow we are all going to Diagon Alley and you can pick out some things for us, if you like.”

 

“I’d like that, very much.” Harry agreed, and was soon distracted by more of his presents being handed to him.  He received a small box of chocolate frogs from Katie Bell, and Narcissa laughed when Draco teased him yet again about the girl ‘liking’ him.  He also opened a card from Harriet McClaren, and was grateful to learn she didn’t seem mad at him for making the quidditch team when she hadn’t.

 

“What’s this?” He asked when he opened Lucius’ present to him.  As far as he could tell it was just a smooth grey stone with what appeared to be little flecks of reddish metal imbedded in its surface.

 

“It’s a soothstone.” Lucius explained, “You can hide it in your hand, and it will grow warm if someone is telling a direct lie to you.  It’s not infallible, and can be fooled by magic, particularly occlumency.  And it only works with direct lies.  With half-truths, misconceptions, and those harmless little white lies some people feel compelled to tell… well, the stone will often fail you there.  But it can be a useful tool, nonetheless.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”  Harry smiled, and put the stone in his pocket alongside the fifty-pence piece.

 

Draco had opened several boxes of candy, a book – “Quidditch Through the Ages” – and a little pewter dragon about three inches tall painted silver and green, which Harry had ordered for him with a little help from one of the older Slytherin students.  Once Draco opened it, the tiny dragon flew around the room breathing illusory fire at random flammable objects.  Undeterred by being unable to actually burn anything, the dragon continued looking for more targets to unleash its fury upon.

 

Harry then opened his gift from Narcissa, a sleek black silk robe and matching pointed hat which were far warmer than they looked.  He then noticed a present from the ‘Weasley Family’ though he guessed it was mostly from the twins.  Lucius sneered when he saw who it was from, showing obvious distaste, but didn’t actually say anything as Harry opened it to find a hand knitted sweater in green and silver, a package of homemade fudge which he found quite delicious, and a pair of hand-carved trick wands which seemed to turn to limp rubber the moment Harry tried casting a spell with them.

 

“It’s nice of them to think of me. I made friends with the twins, Fred and George, on my first day at school.  They’ve been nice and helpful, though they like to play pranks.”  Harry explained, wanting Lucius to know what he thought of the Weasleys.  “They’re sort of friends with Draco as well.” He added.

 

“Is that true, Draco?” Lucius asked his son.

 

“Yeah sort of, the younger Weasley – Ronald – is a bit of a prat, but the twins are nice enough even when they’re playing jokes on us.  They’re also Harry’s quidditch rivals; they play beaters for Gryffindor, but still seem to get along well with Harry, just like their seeker, Katie Bell.”

 

“An interesting ‘match’ then.” Narcissa replied, “Just remember, even if you associate with them, the Weasleys don’t share many of our views, and their father and yours, have fought over Ministry policy on many occasions.”

 

“I know.  Maybe they’ll be nicer though, if we make friends with their kids, right?” Draco asked, looking to his father, who nodded after a moment of consideration.

 

“Yes, that’s a possibility, so long as you keep that goal in mind.”

 

Harry ate another bite of his fudge then started to open yet another package.  This one had no tag, and no card or note, so Harry was quite curious.  He tore the paper off, and found himself looking at a book.  Lucius made a sound of approval as Harry read the title aloud, “Secrets of Potion Masters and Alchemists.  Someone must want to help me in Snape’s class, I guess.  It’s no secret he hates me, but I wonder who would have sent it.”

 

“I couldn’t say.” Narcissa took the book and examined, it, and Lucius leaned over to whisper something in her ear.  She smiled and handed the book back to Harry.  “I think you’ll find this very useful, make certain you study it only in your rooms, however.  Not everything in there is part of the approved curriculum at Hogwarts.”

 

“It’s not dangerous is it?”  Harry looked at the book again.

 

“Not at all, so long as you use your head.  There are things in there which can turn nasty if you don’t brew them correctly, and there’s also information on some magic Hogwarts students generally never learn, but if you’re careful about it, you should be perfectly fine.  There’s nothing about the book itself that is dangerous in any way, so as long as you don’t abuse the knowledge it contains, you and those around you will be perfectly safe.”

 

“Then why isn’t it approved at Hogwarts?”  Harry wondered aloud.

 

“It was once.” Lucius assured him, “But the book wasn’t to Dumbledore’s liking, so he had it moved to the restricted section of the library, and it’s no longer part of the curriculum, nor on any recommended reading lists.  This all happened before even my time at the school, but I came across it once with some of my friends in Slytherin when I was still a student myself.”

 

“Alright, sounds good.” Harry set it on his growing pile of gifts – as it was too large to pocket – and continued opening his other presents.  Draco had gotten him his own wizard chess set, and there were a few other things from ‘the Malfoys’ such as a grooming kit with several files and trimmers for Hedwig’s beak and talons, some oils and powders, as well as some soft fine bristled brushes for her feathers.  Harry also got some extra socks in silver and black, and a picture frame with a photograph of him and Draco in front of the Hogwarts express.  Neither of them had realized they’d been photographed, and in the photo they were chatting, though no sound came from the picture, and ribbing each other a bit as they looked for Draco’s parents.

 

Finally, there was one more present for Harry to open.  He wondered why he hadn’t spotted it earlier, and picked it up to find it was surprisingly light, and soft.  When he opened it something silky and slippery which shone sort of silvery slid through his fingers with a whisper to the floor.

 

 “What does the card say?” Narcissa asked, and Harry saw the corner of a card peeking out from under the pile of cloth, which seemed less silver now, and closer to the white shade of the carpet beneath.

 

“Your father left this in my possession before he died.” Harry began aloud then swallowed a lump in his throat, “It is time it was returned to you.  Use it well.”  There was no signature, only “A Very Merry Christmas to you.”

 

“I think you should try it on.” Lucius suggested.

 

Harry stood up, and pulled the cloak up and around his shoulders.  Draco gasped, Narcissa smiled, looking pleased and impressed, and Lucius just looked smug.  “That’s… an invisibility cloak!” Draco’s voice was filled with awe and wonder.  Sure enough Harry looked down and couldn’t see his feet, or his shadow.

 

“Those are quite rare,” Lucius explained, “and can be hard to come by, even if you can afford one.  And, if it really _did_ belong to your father, this must be a quality cloak, as they often lose their magic after a few years.”

 

“I wish I knew who sent it.  They must have known my dad.” Harry looked at the card again, appearing to float in midair as his arm was still mostly under the cloak.

 

“Mysteries like these do have a way of revealing themselves in time.” Lucius told him, smiling lightly.

 

Harry and Draco took their things to their rooms, and then broke in Harry’s new chess set.  Harry lost, yet again, but thoroughly enjoyed getting to know his pieces, which were much newer and less experienced than Draco’s set.

 

* * * * *

 

In the morning, they all set out for Diagon Alley.  Lucius apparated with Draco, and Narcissa took Harry the same way.  He immediately understood Draco’s dislike of this mode of travel, as he felt trapped, compressed, and twisted in all directions as images of the countryside flashed past him at high speed.  It took him several minutes to calm his racing heart and roiling stomach before they could set off into Diagon Alley proper from their arrival point near Gringotts bank.  Dobby accompanied them, but he was under strict orders from Lucius not to speak, only to help them with their things.

 

The place was even more crowded than it had been on Harry’s birthday, and it took some time to navigate the streets, as they visited stores – where things were being bought or returned – and looked over all sorts of things Harry found exciting, and interesting.  He wanted to find something special to gift his best friend’s parents.  The Malfoys picked up a few items on the way for themselves and for each other.  Narcissa even bought Harry a miniature toy firebolt which could fly around his dorm room at Hogwarts with Draco’s dragon.

 

Narcissa led them to a shop which sold clothing and accessories for wizards, and Harry noticed her eyeing a brooch and matching earrings set, which he found were not too expensive, so he picked them up when she’d moved on.  He also found a black cloak with a silver clasp he thought Lucius would like, and got the shopkeeper to sell all of it to him discreetly, and wrap them in brown paper.  He didn’t have to worry about carrying his purchases either, since Dobby quite eagerly took all they’d bought back to the manor for them before they had even left the store.

 

They continued browsing the shops and eventually settled to eat at a fancy restaurant where Lucius spent some of the time talking with a few friends before they were shown to their table.  Harry enjoyed the meal, though the portions were rather small, and it was served with a shade less flair than he was used at Hogwarts or Malfoy Manor.

 

And when they arrived back at the estate both Lucius and Narcissa exclaimed over their presents, and thanked Harry so emphatically that he no longer felt guilty for forgetting them initially.

 

* * * * *

 

It was a few more days before Harry decided that, whatever their faults, he very much liked Draco’s parents.  They were very nice to him, and while they’d come across as a bit arrogant at first, Harry soon realized that they had many reasons to be proud of their accomplishments and heritage.  There were a few things he was less certain of, but he had a feeling he could sort those out and come to accept them in time.

 

Harry found himself eating another dinner, though not quite as fine as those they’d shared on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, when Draco began recounting the story of his recent fight with Ron Weasley.  “…then he called you a death eater, and took a swing at me.  Harry immediately tried to pull us apart, but Snape was right there, and he…”

 

“That’s quite an accusation,” Lucius interrupted Draco briefly, “Though I’m used to that sort of thing by now.  There are many who do not wish to believe I was just as much a victim of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror as anyone.” Harry got the idea he was explaining this for his benefit, primarily.

 

“What was it like?” Harry asked, and Draco looked momentarily put out by the interruption, but quickly turned to hear Lucius’ response.  “I’ve only heard stories,” Harry continued, “About how terrible it was when He was around.  I’ve also heard that he’s not dead, and probably will return someday.”

 

Lucius was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “The Dark Lord was, and is, terrifying.  I would tell you to pray you never meet him, but I believe that it is inevitable that you and He will confront each other.  Those were dark times.  The Dark Lord did many wondrous, terrible, and glorious things, but he was ultimately defeated, by you Harry.  No one knows exactly how – or why he failed to kill you – but I think we can all agree that the world rests a little easier now that he is gone, even if he is not gone for good.”

 

Harry sat, and thought about that, but Draco quickly resumed telling his story.  Harry didn’t really hear, as he thought about Voldemort and everything Lucius had said.  After dinner, perhaps sensing that Harry was still brooding about it, Lucius took Harry aside and sat him down in the library, after ascertaining they were alone and would be undisturbed.

 

“I can tell something weighs heavily on your mind.” Lucius began, and Harry only nodded.  “It’s Him isn’t it?  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?  You’re wise to be concerned, but it does you no benefit to dwell on such things.”  He drew up a chair to face Harry’s, and sat with a grave and concerned expression.

 

“You said you feel certain we’ll meet face-to-face someday.  How can you know that?” Harry fidgeted in his seat.

 

Lucius didn’t answer right away, regarding him for a long quiet moment, “I don’t know how much you understand about prophecy,” He began, a little hesitant, “But it was a foretelling which led the Dark Lord to you when you were so young.”

 

“A prophecy?”  Harry blinked.  He could guess the general idea of how that sort of thing worked, but it was true he didn’t have much experience or knowledge on the subject.

 

“Yes.  A prophecy concerning the threat you might someday pose to the dark lord, I believe.”

 

“You mean… my parents are dead because of… of something I haven’t even done yet?!!” Harry’s voice choked a bit and tears stung his eyes.

 

Lucius nodded, “I was not privy to the details of the prophecy.  I do not know what it contained, or why it led to your parents’ deaths.  I do not know if there’s anything I could have done to change the outcome, but I do know this: Your destinies have been intertwined ever since that day.  Someday you will face him again, and when you do, there are some things you must remember.”

 

Lucius leaned forward and regarded Harry very seriously and Harry did his best to compose himself.  “First, whatever your feelings may be concerning the Dark Lord and his plans, you must be very cautious in your dealings with him.  You cannot rely on luck, or even on prophecy.  No one knows how you survived before, and you must plan for the likelihood that whatever it was, will not be repeated.  If the Dark Lord has any reason to suspect your intentions do not align with his, he _will_ destroy you.  And he can sense insincerity.  There are none who can stand against him openly, except perhaps Dumbledore.  The rest of us must use our wits if we are to survive him.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand.” Harry admitted, looking down at his lap, “You want me to pretend he didn’t kill my parents?”

 

Lucius sighed, but offered a rare, kind smile, “He has taken much from you, but he does not understand the pain he inflicts on people, except as a tool to control them.  Always remember this.  The Dark Lord is destined for greatness, but he is not perfect.  There are things you and I understand fully that he is incapable of empathizing with.  It is perhaps his one true flaw, his one true weakness, though he would never consider it as such.”

 

Harry couldn’t speak for a long moment, but finally managed to get out, “He sounds awful.” He was glad that he was able to hold back his tears, even if his voice wasn’t entirely steady.  He did not want to cry in front of Lucius.  “Is that why you didn’t stand against him?”  He asked after another long silence.  “Draco told me you were under the Imperius Curse.  He said it made it so you couldn’t control your actions.”

 

“That is near enough to the truth.”  Lucius leaned back in his chair, looking older and more tired than he had ever before.  “What do you know about unforgivable curses?”  He asked, taking Harry a little by surprise.

 

“I don’t know anything about them.  I don’t even know what they are.”

 

“There are three curses, so terrible, that to use them is considered unforgivable.  Three curses with no reliable defense.  Perhaps the least feared – and in many ways the most powerful – is the Imperius Curse.  It takes away your free will, turns you into an obedient slave, unable to resist the commands of your master. Your thoughts are still your own, you can see and feel and hear.  You know the consequences of your actions, even if you cannot act against your master’s will.”

 

“Is there no way to resist it?”  Harry asked.

 

“It takes an exceptionally strong mind, and even if you can break free, the curse still leaves you shaken, and weakened.  I will be honest with you, Harry, and I will trust that you will not speak of this to any outside this house…”  He waited for Harry’s nod before continuing.  “I served the Dark Lord willingly, at least at first.”  At Harry’s shocked expression he held up a hand to forestall any interruption.  “I admired his goals, and even some of his methods.  But, I came to realize that the world he would create is not the one I would wish to live in.  He controlled me; not through magic, but through fear, and perhaps a little hope.  I served him faithfully, so that I could live to find an opportunity to escape him someday.  An opportunity you granted.”

 

Harry remained quiet, a little awed and disturbed by these revelations.  He didn’t know what to think.  How was he to say if Lucius had done the right thing?  He didn’t know what _he_ would do when he met Voldemort in person.

 

“Forgive me, if I have become a touch melancholy.  These are heavy burdens, I’m sure you don’t need me adding to those you already bear.” Lucius’ expression was grave.

 

“No, I’m fine.”  Harry tried to reassure his best friend’s father, who seemed much different than the proud sometimes snide man he’d come to know over the last few days.  “I’m glad you told me.  Most people won’t tell me anything about… about him.  Or what it was like.”

 

Lucius smiled warmly, “You are truly remarkable.  You give hope to so many; remember that.  And hold on to some of that hope for yourself.  And do not forget my words.  I hope they will be of use to you when you finally meet the Dark Lord.”  He’d given Harry a lot to think about.

 

 “I’m sure there are many who would have kept such things from you.”  Lucius continued after a quiet moment.  “I feel that not only do you deserve to know the truth, but I think you _need_ to know it.  Who can say when you will face your destiny, it could be tomorrow, or ten years from now, and if you are not prepared, if you do not know what you must do, it will go badly for you, I am certain.”

 

Harry nodded again, “I’ll remember.”

 

“Go on to bed then, and put this from your mind, at least for now.  It is important for you to know, you need to be thinking about it, but…” Lucius took a moment to continue, “To let it consume your thoughts may well do you even more harm than not knowing.”

 

Harry thanked him again, and left the library.  He tried to do as Mr. Malfoy had suggested, but it still took him a long time to fall asleep.  Though the next night was easier, and gradually over the next few days it no longer occupied his thoughts during the day.  He still thought about everything they’d discussed when he was alone in his room each night.

 

“I’ll be ready.” He told himself.  “I’ll be ready!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think things are starting to come into place now. This chapter was quite interesting, fun, and frustrating to write, as it’s mostly “off the map” as it were. It’s the first time I literally had no reference from the original books in order to build my scenes. I just hope it turned out well.
> 
> So please, let me know what you think.
> 
> I spent some time revising and reediting some of Lucius’ dialogue. I felt perhaps he was saying a bit too much, and I wanted to change the tone of the conversations just a little, and perhaps build an even better foundation for the relationship he has with Harry. It was tricky, getting it just right, but hopefully you'll find it's in a good place in its current state.
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	7. Chapter 6 – The Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday is nearly over, and then it will be time to return to Hogwarts where Draco is alternately clever, and artless, and things are getting busier and busier with Slytherin’s second quidditch match coming up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere, very minor violence, and strong “wizard” language. No adult situations.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

The last Saturday of the break Harry accompanied the Malfoys to London, for a Christmas party they’d been invited to, and met some more of their family friends, including Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle’s parents, Barnabus Cuffe, the chief editor of the Daily Prophet, and a graying and exuberant round man named Horus Slughorn, who was already a little drunk, but seemed more interested than most to get to know Harry, and started talking to him about advanced potions, most of which was far beyond Harry’s current knowledge and skill level.

 

It seemed to Harry that he was quickly becoming the talk of the party, though aside from Slughorn, the guests here seemed better at hiding their interest than most.  He enjoyed talking to a few of the guests – once he managed to get away from Slughorn – but mostly found the atmosphere a little oppressive.  As evening was setting in, he found his way to a balcony to get some fresh air, standing near the snow coated rail and looking up at the darkening sky, little flakes of frozen white gliding gently down around him.

 

“It can be a bit tiring, can’t it?” A man had emerged behind him, and when Harry turned he found this newcomer was looking up at the sky as he had been a moment before.  Clouds obscured much of the stars, but the moon was about three quarters full, and its light pierced the sky even through the weather.

 

“I suppose.” Harry replied, looking at this guest, whom he didn’t think he’d been introduced to before.  “I’m sorry; I don’t think I caught your name.”

 

“How rude of me.” The man’s long hair shone silver in the light of the moon, but he didn’t look especially old, though neither was he still young.  His voice was deep and rich, and he sported a short goatee that matched his hair.  “My name is Valarios Vladescu, you may call me Valarios.”  The name sounded exotic, but he spoke without an accent.

 

“I’m Harry.  Harry Potter.” He replied, mentally bracing himself for any reaction but the one he received.

 

“I know.”  Valarios said simply then moved next to Harry at the rail.  It was a moment before he began again, “I understand you’ve been surprising people.  Most do not seem to know what to expect from you anymore.”  Vladescu wasn’t surprised, or awed, or any of the things Harry was used to, merely indulgent as if Harry had done something a little dull.

 

“I hadn’t thought about that much.” Harry’s cheeks were a little red, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was from the cold.  This man was a touch unsettling, he decided.  “There’s still a lot I need to figure out.”

 

“I think you’ll get there.  You seem clever enough.  Just look at how well you’re doing in potions, considering you don’t get along very well with your professor.  Or the accomplishment of being the youngest seeker for a house team in a hundred and twelve years?  I’d say you’re quite a bit ahead of many of your classmates, and that’s just scratching the surface, isn’t it?”

 

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

 

“I consider myself to be a good judge of people, and I have a few friends on the staff at Hogwarts.  They’ve talked a lot about you.”  He chuckled softly as he said it, and then turned away, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now.  I had wished to make your acquaintance, and now that I have, I’m sure we’ll have more opportunity to speak in the future.  Take care, and don’t be afraid of taking a few risks, my young Mr. Potter.  We all expect great things of you.”

 

Then Harry was alone, left to wonder about Valarios’ cryptic remarks, which made him remember another encounter at the end of July, where the wand maker had said much the same thing.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and gasped, withdrawing his soothstone, warm to the touch.  He glanced behind him at the doorway, wondering if he should be worried about this man who’d taken such an interest in him.  He was soon joined by Draco, and they spent the rest of the evening discussing all the new people Harry had met, until it was time to return to the Malfoy’s home.  Harry didn’t, however, mention Valarios to his closest friend.

 

* * * * *

 

Once again they were back on the train, the Christmas Holidays over all too soon.  Harry and Draco waved goodbye to the Malfoys as the engine pulled out of the station to the sound of the train whistle and a great puff of steam overhead.  During the trip, they played another game of chess – which Harry lost – and then they were back at Hogwarts, settling in for another term.

 

Classes would begin the following morning, so they made the best of their time, sorting their new things, finding out what their friends had gotten for Christmas, and avoiding Seamus, Ron, and Dean.  Harry had to spend most of the afternoon at quidditch practice, but spent the rest of the evening before dinner chatting with Draco.  He’d very nearly forgotten about the mysteries they’d been attempting to unravel, when Draco announced that his plan to learn about the treasure was just about ready.

 

“You still haven’t told me what this plan is.” Harry reminded him.

 

“I know; and I don’t want to spoil it.  I’ve just been working out the kinks, so don’t worry, you’ll see.”

 

It was a few days before they had caught up enough to have any real free time.  They spent one afternoon roaming the halls, talking about nothing in particular.  Harry stopped Draco from practicing a new curse he’d learned on Neville Longbottom, but then they encountered a small group of Ravenclaws walking down the hall in the opposite direction they were going.

 

“Here we go.  Watch this!”  Draco said, grinning as he picked up his pace.

 

Draco continued before Harry could do more than think about stopping him, “Ravenclaws think they’re so smart, but I could stump any one of them.” He said it to Harry, but his voice was loud enough to be easily overheard.

 

“It’s that nasty Slytherin, Grey-dope isn’t it?” Said a girl several years older than them.  Harry didn’t want to antagonize this group, because the two of them were outnumbered, and the Ravenclaws were bigger and older to boot.  But Draco ignored the insistent tugging at his sleeve.

 

“It’s Draco.” The blonde snarled, “Not that I’d expect you to remember it.  Don’t mind us.”

 

Harry was growing mildly alarmed, and just hoped that Draco somehow knew what he was doing.  As a precaution, he slipped his hand into his pocket to grasp his wand, and prayed fervently he wouldn’t have to use it.

 

“You said you could stump us.” The girl continued, “Well, put your money where your mouth is, or shut it.  But I’d very much like to see you try.”

 

One of her friends grinned, “This’ll be good; you show ‘em Sidney.”

 

“Fine, here’s a riddle for you!” Draco snarled right back, and then took a moment to compose himself, before continuing,

 

“I am a treasure most coveted, though not gaudy or impressive,

in fact, I can be hidden easily in the palm of your hand.

Those who can claim me guard me with their lives, power, and more,

while those who would seek me out would go to any lengths to capture me.

I am unique, with no more than a few like me in the whole world,

yet my identity is kept a secret, my keepers gain their prize without flaunting me.

What am I?”

 

Harry had to fight to keep his surprise from his face.  He realized now this must be what Draco had been working on: a way to trick an older cleverer student into speculating on the nature of the treasure Fluffy was guarding, and he thought it sounded very good.  He held his breath as Sidney considered her answer.  She no longer looked angry, but genuinely interested.  No Ravenclaw, it would seem, could resist a good riddle.

 

“When you say ‘unique’, that means there is only ever one.  But no more than a few, implies that there might be more than one.  So which is it?  Do you mean that it’s perfectly unique, as in there’s only ever been one in all of existence, or do you mean exceptionally rare, in that you aren’t likely to ever see or hear of more than one at a time?” she asked at last.

 

“That’s part of the riddle, I’m not giving that away.” Draco said hastily, since Harry guessed he didn’t actually know the answer to the question.

 

 “Fine then.” She continued, her tone once more annoyed, “Is this something mythical, or something confirmed to exist?”

 

Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Draco’s head, “Confirmed to exist.”  He said after a moment.

 

“So… not the resurrection stone… or… a djinn ring.” She quieted again, everyone watched her with baited breath, even Draco, who no longer even pretended to be taunting her.

 

 Finally she sighed, and shook her head, “Well I can think of two things it could be.  The Kronos’ eye, or the philosopher’s stone.”

 

“I’m surprised, guess I couldn’t stump you after all.” Draco offered, barely hiding his smile.

 

“Well, which is it?”  She asked, frowning at him.

 

“Oh, the Kronos’ eye, of course.” He answered, already starting to walk away.

 

“Next time you’re feeling self-important, you just remember that Sidney Fawcett easily overcame your challenge.” She called out to them as they continued down the hall.

 

Once they were out of earshot, Harry asked, “Do you know what any of those are?”

 

Draco shrugged, “Not yet.  But we’ll find out soon enough.  Just need to do a little research now, but I’ll bet you my new broom that Fluffy’s guarding one of those four things.”

 

“Four things?  You mean two?” Harry blinked.

 

“We should look up the resurrection stone and the djinn ring too.  Just because they’re not _confirmed_ to exist doesn’t mean they can’t be real.”

 

“I hope you’re right, and I hope whoever’s trying to steal it doesn’t hear that we might be looking for it too.”

 

And so the search began.  Draco and Harry started spending some of their free time in the library looking for information on the four objects Sidney Fawcett had mentioned.  They checked out books on myths, fairy tales, magical lore, and even a few newer books on more modern magical accomplishments.

 

The first one they found was the djinn ring.  “It says here – ‘The first djinn ring was created in Maghreb in North Western Africa.  The secrets to the binding of a djinn to a ring are closely guarded by those few known to have possessed them.  One such ring is believed to have been owned by the Emperor of China for a few generations, see MA one twenty-eight, while another, perhaps the most famous of all djinn was owned by Sultan Ababwa of Damascus, see WD three hundred…’ ”

 

“See what?  What do those numbers mean?”

 

“Numbers?” Draco paused, and looked back over what he’d read, “References, I think, to help us find other books.  Should be a glossary in the back.”

 

“Well don’t read them aloud.”

 

“The other books could help us find more information though.”

 

“So write down notes, but stop reading the references aloud, it’s confusing.”

 

Draco shrugged, and grabbed a sheet of parchment and dug through his stack of school supplies for a note taking quill, which – after a few false starts where Draco had to set it upright again and make sure it had enough ink – started jotting down references as he read.  “ ‘Sultan Ababwa of Damascus, who is alleged to be the only man to ever voluntarily release a djinn from servitude.  His son, Ali, spent much of his life searching for djinns and studying lore on djinn binding, and rumors persist of an unrivaled library of lore and gathered research that he built by the end of his life.  But if it exists, its location remains a tantalizing mystery to historians, scholars, and treasure hunters alike.

 

“ ‘The Persian witch, Scheherazade, is perhaps the most well-known verified collector of lore on djinns, but her stories are embellished and fanciful and it is unknown how much truth they contain.  The most recent encounter with a bound djinn occurred when muggle astronaut, Anthony Nelson, discovered a djinn trapped in a bottle on a deserted island after landing off course from his planned landing zone in nineteen sixty-one.  The affair was hushed up by the Magical Congress of the United States of America, though the information apparently could not be entirely concealed, and some rumors persisted in muggle society for many years after.’ ”

 

“What does it do?” Harry wondered, crowding closer to look at the book.

 

Draco scanned down the page, and then smiled before continuing, “ ‘A djinn ring summons the djinn bound to it, who must do the master’s bidding, even up to the fulfillment of wishes within the power of the djinn, though once three wishes are fulfilled, the djinn is released from the bearer’s service forever, though it may not in the future work to harm its former master.  The most powerful of the djinn can conjure great wealth, transform one person into another, and even make one’s master nearly invulnerable to harm.  They can influence people’s thoughts and desires, and alter recent history, but they cannot bring back the dead, manufacture true and lasting love, or – contrary to popular belief – make someone immortal.  They can reverse the effects of aging and ensure a wizard lives a very long life, but no more.’ ”

 

“Wow, that certainly sounds like something Snape would…”

 

“Or McGonagall, or someone else they were trying to stop.”  Draco interrupted.

 

“Yes… or them.  It sounds like something someone would be willing to release a troll into a castle full of students in order to get at.”  Harry continued.

 

“But it’s also one of the ‘mythological’ answers that Ravenclaw gave us.”  Draco frowned.  “Even though this book talks about it like it’s real.”  He turned the book over to re-read the cover, and he sighed when he realized it was entitled, ‘Magical Men, Myths, and Mythology’.

 

“So where does that leave us?” Harry asked.

 

“It means – I think – that we keep looking.” Draco shrugged, “Maybe once we find out about the other three we’ll have better luck narrowing it down.” He tapped his finger as his brow furrowed, “I’m almost certain I’ve heard of the resurrection stone somewhere, but I can’t remember where, or when.”

 

Harry nodded, and smiled, “And just because it says it’s a myth, doesn’t mean that it is, or that there isn’t at least some truth to it.  Do you have any idea how many things _I_ thought were myths just a few short months ago which turned out to be real?”

 

They both smiled at that.

 

* * * * *

 

Within just a few weeks, Draco had compiled an impressive stack of notes on the books they’d found in the library, but also had owled an order for a book he felt certain would have the information they needed.  It was entitled, ‘Famous Artifacts of History, Myth, and Legend’, and since it wasn’t in the Hogwarts library, Draco purchased it from a shop called Demarcationers.

 

“I wonder why they don’t have this one in the library.” Draco grumbled as they waited for his package to arrive.  “To my knowledge, it doesn’t have any dark magic or anything dangerous in it.”

 

“I’m just glad you had a catalogue for that store.” Harry smiled.

 

“Father gave me the catalogue when I came to Hogwarts; he said if I wanted to look into something that wasn’t on the curriculum I could order books from Demarcationers with it.”

 

“You’re not going to get into trouble, are you?”

 

“Nah, you can’t even order anything restricted or forbidden, not until you’re seventeen at least.”

 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that we still have time, I’m pretty sure Fluffy wouldn’t still be up in the third floor corridor if whatever it’s guarding wasn’t still there.”

 

Draco couldn’t argue with Harry’s logic, so they turned their conversation to other topics.

 

It was a few more days before Draco received his book by owl post, and they immediately returned to their rooms to open the package and start reading it.

 

“It’s got an index.” Draco announced, “ ‘Artifacts by name.’ – Let’s look at Rs – ‘radiance in a bottle, rainbow staff, rancid devourer flakes…’ ” he skimmed down the page a little further, “ ‘red cobalt, Reginald’s redolent rowan rhetoric…’ ”

 

“What on earth is that?”  Harry laughed a little, and Draco just shrugged.

 

“We’ll look at it later.” Draco assured him, “ ‘rent life thread, reparative unguent, ah, the resurrection stone!’ ”

 

He began turning pages, until he found the page he was looking for, leaned back against his pillows and began reading.  “ ‘There is a stone, mentioned in far too many tales and myths to be purely fantasy, imbued with the power to erase death.  Little is known about its origins, or even the specifics of its power, but it is always ascribed with the ability to bring back those its bearer knew who have passed on.  Some stories, such as in the tales of Beedle the Bard…’ – I knew I’d heard of it somewhere, Mother used to read those to me when I was younger.”  He grinned, then turned back to the page, “ ‘…such as in the tales of Beedle the Bard, the stone is flawed, in that it brings back a shadow or ghost of the individual, and cannot return them to true life, whereas other stories insist that it can return a departed soul to its body, and that body can return to true life, provided the individual has not been dead for too long.’ ”

 

“I could see that being valuable as well.” Harry interrupted, “A lot of people would kill to get it.  And if they wanted, they could then bring the person back to life afterwards.”

 

They both laughed at that for a moment.  Draco composed himself first, “Definitely.  We’ll have to look into this more when we get back from class.  It should help us find books with more detailed information on these objects, like the one I found about the djinn ring.  I really hope at least one of these stands out; so far, it’s hard to say which is more likely to actually be here.”

 

Unfortunately, Harry had quidditch practice later that day, and he didn’t get a chance to sit and chat with Draco until late in the evening.  Their match with Ravenclaw was coming up before too long, and while they still had several weeks, Flint was pushing them hard.  Harry returned to his room a bit sore and exhausted.

 

“Ready for the next one?” Draco asked, opening his book and propping it on his knees as soon as Harry looked mostly settled.

 

“Maybe we can do some more in the morning.” Harry mumbled, shifting a bit to get comfortable on his bed.

 

“All _you_ have to do is listen.” Draco admonished, and began to read while they were still alone.  “ ‘Kronos’ eye!’ ”  He paused for effect, but Harry just lay and listened silently.  “ ‘The Kronos eye, also known as the Eye of Odin, in books such as…’ ”

 

“Skip references…” Harry muttered.

 

“ ‘The orb of Kronos, the seer stone, or the phoenix eye, is an object which appears in several ancient stories and myths, with subtle variations.  It is described as a crystal orb no bigger than a large man’s eye, and perfectly clear like a lens.  Holding it to one’s eye and peering through reveals the future, and it is said one can learn to control the visions the eye shows, though only with significant time and practice.  It’s uses vary from telling to telling, such as granting the user immunity to illusions, preventing the telling of lies or breaking of vows made in its presence, even translating any written or spoken language.’ ”

 

“Not sure how useful that would be, suppose if you can change the future you see, or maybe use it to win raffles and such.”  Draco mused.

 

“Could use it to win chess.”  Harry murmured sleepily.

 

“Yeah, you could use it to predict someone’s moves.  Shall I go onto the next one?”

 

“No, I’m really tired,” Harry said through a yawn, “Tomorrow.”

 

Draco might have said more, but if he did, Harry was too far gone to hear it.  But they never found time the next day, or the next; each day busier than the last.  Between the St. Valentines holiday, studying for quizzes and exams, checking on their potions, and Harry’s quidditch practice, they were getting swamped.  Draco started spending time reading his book on his own when Harry wasn’t around, and summarizing what he’d read when Harry had a little bit of time between classes.  Harry wondered idly on some of his nights, if other students were working as hard as he was.

 

 “ ‘The philosopher’s stone is considered the ultimate expression of alchemy.’ ” Draco read to Harry one night.  “ ‘Only a handful of wizards throughout history have been confirmed or rumored with the knowledge and capability to make one, perhaps the most famous of which is Nicolas Flamel, the six hundred year old French alchemist whose other achievements include working with Leonardo de Vinci on the creation of the De Vinci Time Gate and the creation of the first Grand Materia, magical crystals that can capture and amplify the essence of even the most powerful of spells.  The philosopher’s stone is a necessary reagent in the creation of the elixir of life, a potion which makes the drinker immortal and unaging.  It is also used in advanced transmutation, such as in turning lead into gold, or repairing incorrectly brewed potions…’

 

“This thing really does sound like something Snape would _love_ to get his hands on.” Draco admitted in a low tone.

 

“It does sound that way.”  Harry agreed.  “Then again who _wouldn’t_ want eternal life?  Still, it might require someone truly skilled in potion making to make full use of a philosopher stone, while the other artifacts seem pretty useful just as they are.”

 

“Good point.”  Draco nodded, “You know, there’s a book I think talks about Nicholas Flamel in the library, but the last time I checked, it was checked out, and has been the whole term.”

 

“That’s interesting!  You don’t suppose whoever’s trying to get past fluffy has that book?”

 

“It’s certainly possible.” Draco agreed, “Maybe we can find out who checked it out?” They continued speculating until they fell asleep.

 

The teachers started giving them extra homework, even with Slytherin’s next quidditch match rapidly approaching, and both Harry and Draco found they were spending more and more time in the library, along with quite a few other students.  They grabbed books on the four artifacts whenever they found them, but barely had time to look them over as they studied for their upcoming exams.

 

The djinn ring was very potent and powerful, they agreed, but it also seemed fully powerful enough to stop someone trying to steal it, especially if you knew they were making the attempt.  Similarly, the Kronos’ eye should allow one to predict when someone was trying to steal it as well.  With those things in mind they focused on the resurrection stone and the philosopher’s stone.

 

Hermione Granger was almost always in the library between classes, often with her friend Parvati Patil.  Draco held his tongue, but it was obvious there was something about Hermione that he found highly distasteful.  Harry was afraid to ask.

 

Things came to a head in the middle of March, the day before the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game.  Hermione had been bumping into them more and more frequently, and had been getting a little nosey.  At first she had asked Harry if he was looking for something specific, he assured her he was just browsing.  But when she bumped into Draco carrying a book on the history of necromancy (for information on the resurrection stone), she very pointedly asked him, “You’re doing research on something aren’t you?  You should be focusing on exams, they’re not too far off, and you don’t want to fall behind, especially not for something like necromancy, I know I wouldn’t want to fall behind, you won’t even be allowed to return to school your second year if you don’t do well on the exams, you’re studying with Harry right, I ran into him just the other day, he wasn’t looking up class material either, I really think that if you…”

 

Draco _had_ tried to duck past her, and started walking away, but she followed, still talking, while Draco turned a bit red in the face.  He was trying not to get into fights or be too nasty to other people – around Harry at least – but it seemed he’d finally reached his limit this time, “I don’t care what you think, Mudblood!” he shouted all of a sudden, and in the next moment, the library went deathly quiet!  Hermione looked shocked, and horribly offended.  But even though Harry had no idea what the term ‘mudblood’ meant, from the look on Hermione’s face it was definitely bad.  Very bad.  He couldn’t remember ever seeing Hermione silent for that long unless her nose was in a book.

 

When the silence stretched, Draco continued, “Don’t you _ever_ shut up?  Why don’t you just go back home, and leave magic to those who know what they’re doing?!”  His normally pale face the color of beets.

 

“Draco, that’s enough!” Harry stood up, his studying forgotten, and shouted at his friend, but the damage had been done, Hermione fled, and Harry thought he heard a sob.

 

Parvati and Lavender Brown rushed after her and a moment later the librarian, Madam Pince, stormed up to them, as angry as Draco had been a few moments before.  “What is the meaning of this?” she scolded in a whisper sharp enough to carry clearly across the entire library.  “Out of my library right now, and leave those, you can find another place to study.  Go!”

 

She shooed Draco out, with Harry right behind, and he turned swiftly on his friend the moment they were in the corridor.  “The hell was that, Draco?!” Harry growled, “Now they may never let us back in the library; we won’t find out anything more about the stones, and how are we going to study for exams?  Bloody brilliant!  I’d like to know how you could have possibly botched things for us any more.”

 

“It’s not _my_ fault, it’s that bossy Granger, she’s always poking her nose in other people’s business, and I just got tired of it.”

 

“Well, you really showed her!  We’re the ones banned from the library!  What was that you called her anyways?” Harry was walking quickly back towards their dorms, in a foul mood, with Draco trotting to keep up.

 

“Oh, um…” Draco was suddenly sheepish.

 

Harry frowned at him.  “It’s something really nasty, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a term for someone muggle born.” Draco sighed, “And yes, it’s nasty, but I’m not sorry I called her that, she’s not much of a witch, and she’s a disgrace to the purity of…”

 

“My mother was muggle born!” Harry snarled.

 

“I… I… I didn’t mean that you…”

 

“Look, I don’t want to hear it.  If you’re going to pick fights, can’t you at least do it where we’re not going to get in trouble?”

 

“I hardly ever get us into trouble…” Draco protested, “It’s her fault, she shouldn’t even _be_ here.  My father’s been trying to get…”

 

“I said I don’t want to hear it!” Harry stormed off, and grabbed a few books from his trunk, and ignored Draco on his way back out through the common room.

 

He found an empty classroom, made sure Peeves wasn’t lurking about, then sat down to study.  As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t keep his mind on his books.  He didn’t speak to Draco the rest of that day, and didn’t sit by him at dinner either, instead sitting between Blaise Zabini, and Gemma Farley, who both seemed happy to have him there.  They chatted mostly about the upcoming quidditch game, and how they sincerely hoped to trounce Ravenclaw.  It helped Harry’s mood a little, but he and Draco still weren’t speaking when they retired for bed.  Harry lay awake a long time, his anger simmering, too restless to sleep.  Finally he got up and wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself before heading back to the library to finish some of his studying in secret.

 

* * * * *

 

The next morning Harry was exhausted and nervous, but also excited.  He’d been practicing for months, and he was looking forward to the quidditch match.  He wasn’t nearly as anxious as he had been the first match, as he had a much better idea now what to expect.  The day was chilly, and cloudless, the sky more of a cold grey than a vibrant blue.  Harry marched onto the field with his team, and looked across at the Ravenclaw players.  They seemed fairly evenly matched, and this time Harry could put names to the entire team.

 

The Ravenclaw captain was a 5th year boy named Duncan Inglebee.  He and another boy named Jason Samuels played as beaters.  As Harry had seen during the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff game just before Christmas, their keeper – a boy named Malcom Sanders – was very good.  They also had a brand new seeker this year, a 2nd year girl named Cho Chang, who was even smaller than Harry, and rather skinny with a boyish figure.  He’d seen her fly and thought she was amazing, but he doubted her Comet 260 would keep up with his Wind Chaser.

 

“And they’re up!” Lee Jordan announced, his voice amplified once more by magic to carry throughout the stadium.  Harry rose up above the other players, and noticed Cho doing the same, watching him just as he was watching her.

 

As in their previous match, Flint was ruthless and even a little mean, earning Ravenclaw a penalty shot before the game had really even begun via a thinly disguised “accidental” elbow to the jaw.  Trenton Sif made the shot easily, and players from both teams took their starting positions once again.  As the match drew on, it became evident just how solid Ravenclaw’s defense was; Slytherin’s chasers were having a hard time just getting the quaffle on Ravenclaw’s side of the field.

 

“Kempston steals the quaffle!” Lee Jordan cried.  So far Slytherin hadn’t even gotten a shot on goal.   The Slytherin team’s frustration was obvious, and they were more and more resorting to cheap shots, taunts, and hard play.  “Samuels’ bludger just knocked Flint from his broom.  Kempston takes the shot, Bletchley dives, but he’s too late, Ravenclaw scores!! Ravenclaw now leads sixty to zero!”

 

Adrian Pucey had made a hard cut to intercept Sarah Kempston, but was a second too late, merely adding a penalty.  The penalty shot was good and a time out was called by a wincing Flint from the ground.

 

Flint held his arm close as he stood by his broom, but brushed off the pain to address his team huddling close.  “Look, there is no way we are going to win this game if we lose our cool.  We need to focus on smart play, and that means no more taunts, and NO MORE FOULS!”

 

“But, in practice, you said…”  Lucian Bole protested.

 

“I know what I said.  But they’re too good at scoring, we can’t afford these penalty shots.  We’ve got to focus on SMART fouls, or no fouls at all, got it?  And Harry!  We are going to need that snitch!”

 

Madam Hooch stepped into the huddle at that point, and asked, “Mister Flint, I presume by the look of your arm that I need to turn this into an injury time out, and you’ll be sending in your reserve chaser?”

 

“Yeah,” Flint said reluctantly and called in Urquhart as a substitute while Hooch called for Snape to look at Flint’s arm.

 

Three more times Lee called out Ravenclaw’s scores and Harry felt a little dread creep into his stomach.  A shut-out would be downright humiliating, but at least Slytherin hadn’t been penalized for any more fouls.  Finally, Terrence got the quaffle past Ravenclaw’s chasers, beaters, and Sanders’ impenetrable defense, “Inglebee just checked Higgs, but his shot is good.  Slytherin is on the board.” Lee described the events as Harry watched.  “Higgs makes the penalty shot, Slytherin scores again, now trailing a hundred to twenty!” He said with just a little more enthusiasm, seeming to take a certain satisfaction in the fact that it had taken Slytherin this long just to start scoring.

 

Sanders was beside himself – as if he’d just lost the game instead of only two shots – even though the score now stood at 100 to 20.  Flint returned to the field after the penalty shot and the entire team’s morale seemed to be restored.

 

Slytherin – back under Flints direction – started playing more like a team, making timely passes to keep the quaffle in their control, and away from the Ravenclaw’s chasers.  With their renewed fervor, Slytherin was able to continue scoring.

 

Harry – in the meantime – had only caught glimpses of the snitch, or a flash out of the corner of his eye that might have been the snitch, but Cho hadn’t made any sudden moves indicating she might have seen it either.  Harry had only spotted it at the beginning of the game and during time outs, but during plays, it just vanished.  He began to wonder if the snitch had been hexed or otherwise misenchanted.  It wasn’t very likely that that could have happened and no one noticed, but then, who would be looking except he and Cho.

 

So Harry started watching his rival seeker.  She didn’t _seem_ befuddled, but just kept flying a steady figure eight pattern, looking left, right, up, down, and then at Harry.  Left, right, up, down, Harry.  Left, right, up, down, Harry.  Very methodical; only Cho’s glances at Harry started getting longer.  Left, right, up, down, Haaarrry. Harry hadn’t realized just how intense Cho’s eyes could be.  But suddenly she dropped altitude, circling with obvious intent.  He followed, trying to find whatever had caught her attention, and then he saw the snitch, just for a moment, and it was no where near Cho.

 

“Potter may have spotted the snitch!” Lee announced as Harry turned his broom and put on speed to go after it, looking around to spot where it had gone.  “And Chang is right on his tail!”  But neither of them caught sight of it again, and they both had to return to the search, Cho with her figure eight and Harry to his random gliding.  Being seeker was 30 minutes of boredom interspersed with 30 second periods of pure adrenaline, he decided.

 

He looked to the scoreboard, and was happy to see Slytherin had not only held their own but had started closing the gap. 150 points to 90, “Sif Scores, Ravenclaw leads one sixty to ninety!”  Lee called just at that moment as Harry watched the board change.  He went back to searching, and dodged out of the way of a bludger hit in his direction by Inglebee.  He had heard that school snitches – already much slower than professional ones – continually reduced speed during the course of a match.  Maybe someone had swapped theirs with a professional snitch, he mused.

 

“Chang’s spotted the snitch!” Jordan crowed, bringing Harry’s attention forcibly back to the game.  The announcer was obviously rooting against the Slytherin team, just as he had their previous match.  Harry sped upwards towards Cho, and found she really had noticed the snitch while he’d been checking the score and lost in his own thoughts.  He was closing the distance, but he wasn’t going to get there in time.  Suddenly, Peregrine Derrick slammed into her from one side, and she spun out of control.

 

Harry was so shocked, he lost what little time he might have had to react.  “That cheater rammed Chang, and she’s hit Potter!” Jordan announced as Harry and his rival impacted painfully.  He lost his grip on his broom, and next he knew they were falling together, Chang’s eyes wide as the laces on her glove caught on Harry’s robe.  She screamed, while Harry tried to shift his weight, to reach out and grab his broom, but only ended up starting them both spinning.  He managed to touch the wind chaser with his boot, and somehow his foot ended up in the stirrup after that slight contact.  In the next moment his hand closed on Cho’s wrist and Harry, Cho and broom continued to plummet to the ground.

 

With great effort, Harry reached up with his free hand while pulling his caught foot closer to his body and grabbed his broom.  They all slowed, and not a moment too soon.  Harry saw stars as they hit the grass with a whump, all in a heap.  There was a roaring in his ears – from his head or from the crowd, he wasn’t sure.  Time seemed to stop, and he didn’t know how long he lay there, but gradually became aware that Madam Hooch was standing above him, speaking.

 

“…just stunned I think.” She was saying, to no one in particular.  He saw Marcus Flint and several of the other Slytherins standing or hovering close as well.  Flint must have called a time out for him.

 

“Is Cho?”  Harry croaked, remembering what had happened, and how he’d ended up on the ground and blacked out.

 

“I’m fine, Harry.” She told him, looking embarrassed but fierce standing a little ways away with the rest of her team.

 

He sat up and shook his head, finding he wasn’t really dizzy, mostly his chest hurt a bit, but he thought he could go back into the game.  He had to; they had no reserve seeker after all.

 

“Can you fly, Potter?” Flint asked him, and he nodded.

 

“Let’s get you back into the game then.” He grinned, and helped Harry to his feet.

 

“That Wind Chaser saved you.” Madam Hooch told him, “You might have broken something, falling from that height, and I saw how you caught your broom with your foot, you wouldn’t have been able to do that with most brooms, but that one’s got hands-free charms.”

 

“I _thought_ that sounded useful.”  Harry smiled and mounted up, and then Hooch resumed the game.  Cho Chang seemed much better off than he was, but hadn’t he landed on top of her?  He would have to ask about it later.  Cho missed her penalty shot though, so the score stayed 160 to 90.  Maybe she was more shaken than she had let on.

 

Soon he was putting the incident from his mind, though he noticed that Peter Connolly was playing instead of Peregrine Derrik.  Hooch had evidently _not_ liked his foul, and it looked like he might be sitting out the rest of the game.  So much for Flint’s ‘no more fouls’, Harry thought.  On the other hand, had Derrik _not_ fouled, Cho would have almost assuredly caught the snitch and won the game for Ravenclaw, by a landslide no less.  Harry suddenly understood what Flint had meant when he’d said they needed ‘smart’ fouls.  Even if Derrik was ejected from the game; _that_ , was a smart foul.

 

Ravenclaw continued their steady scoring, and Slytherin would answer with a score of their own, almost, but not every time.  Ravenclaw was clearly a solid team, with great chasers, an even better keeper, and an obviously talented seeker in Cho.  Harry hoped he could best her, but the way things were going he was no longer quite so confident.  At least Slytherin’s beaters seemed to be doing better than Ravenclaw’s.

 

The gap in their scores was gradually widening again.  Harry realized that if Ravenclaw pulled ahead too much further, even catching the snitch might not win the game for Slytherin.  Time passed, with both Harry and Cho catching sight of the snitch but neither able to catch it before it disappeared again to wherever it hid when they weren’t chasing it.

 

Harry became increasingly uncomfortable whenever he made eye contact with Cho, so he decided to just concentrate on finding the snitch and being aware enough to dodge chasers and bludgers.  He also kept a little further away from Cho, and that ultimately paid off; when he finally spotted the snitch, Cho wasn’t nearly close enough to catch up to him before he swiped it out of the air in the middle of a high speed corkscrew maneuver.

 

The cheers were louder than last time, but there were still a lot of the crowd screaming or booing their disappointment.  Harry’s team was elated, and praised him as well as the others who’d made the win possible, including Derrick for ‘saving’ the snitch from Cho.  He saw Cho, sort of hovering outside the press of Slytherins, like maybe she wanted to congratulate or thank him personally, but whatever her intent, it was not to be – at least not at that moment; the Slytherins were in full celebratory riot.

 

The victory party after the match had lost a little of its novelty for Harry, and this time he didn’t sit with Draco, at least not at first.

 

“Harry.” Draco approached him part of the way through the celebration, looking a bit nervous.  Harry sighed, and turned to face him, “Congratulations…” He blurted out, but when Harry’s expression became slightly stern, he quickly added, “Oh, and I’m sorry about the library.”

 

“Thanks.” Harry forced a smile.  He really didn’t want to stay mad at Draco, especially not when he was still enjoying his victory.  “Come on, sit down, we can put that behind us.” He added, patting the seat beside him on the bench.

 

“That was amazing, the way you got your broom under control.”  Draco was saying.

 

“It was the hands-free charms.” Harry explained, in case Draco hadn’t guessed.

 

“I know, and you saved the Ravenclaw seeker.  You’re making a habit of this sort of heroics, bet you she’s going to come thank you tomorrow and blush all over you just like Katie Bell did.” He teased.

 

“You _would_ bring that up, wouldn’t you?” Harry growled.  “At least Katie Bell was nice.  Cho Chang is kind of scrawny and mostly glared at me after we landed.”

 

“You _like_ her!  A Gryffindor, and a girl, and you LIKE her!”

 

“What?!” Harry was shocked, and blushing even harder, “No, she’s… she’s…”  Harry couldn’t think of any words to describe the dark haired witch that wouldn’t sound like a compliment so he shut up.

 

“I knew it, you like a _girl_!” Draco cried, and laughed, singing, “Potter’s got a crush on Bell!” drawing jeers and laughs from nearby Slytherins.

 

“I’m going to go study some more.” Harry muttered, getting up and heading out the door.  Draco didn’t follow right away, but Harry didn’t object when he sat next to him after a while in the nearly empty Slytherin common room, and pulled out some of his books.

 

“It says here, when juicing hard shelled nuts or seeds, it can help to crush them with the flat of your knife, instead of trying to cut them open.” Harry read aloud from his book: “Secrets of Potion Masters and Alchemists”.

 

“Really? That sounds interesting, I wonder if that would have helped with our effervescence potions.”  Draco leaned across and scanned the page a bit, then went back to his own book.

 

Harry continued reading, and took notes as he read, particularly anything that might help on any of their potions work.  He was yawning by the time he realized he was just reading, and no longer taking notes, finding the subject fascinating.  He started, as he read a very familiar but unexpected word, then sat up straighter and caught Draco’s attention.  “Draco, listen to this?!”

 

Draco turned to regard him as Harry read, “ ‘The elixir of life is a wondrous and nearly mythical potion invented by a fourth century Egyptian alchemist named Zosimos, who was the first creator of the philosopher’s stone, the single most important – and elusive – reagent in the elixir’s creation.  In its least refined state the potion reverses the effects of aging, and grants the drinker prolonged life.  Refined techniques learned in more recent centuries have improved the various formulae, though the creation of the philosopher’s stone is still a closely guarded secret by the only living alchemist known to be capable of crafting it.  The recipe used by Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle for the last few centuries grants not just extended youth and life, but also improved natural healing, and can restore lost limbs, or even regenerate a person from near death, or dismemberment…’ – That’s kind of gruesome…” Harry paused, grimacing.

 

“Lovely thought that.”  Draco offered to fill in Harry’s pause.  “It sounds more… reliable than the resurrection stone, that’s for sure.  And in some ways more powerful than the djinn ring, since most djinns can’t bring people back to life, though I get the feeling the elixir of life wouldn’t work on a ghost.”

 

“Yeah… How would they drink it?” Harry chuckled.

 

“Oh there’s spells for that, I hear, to allow ghosts to be effected by certain spells and potions.”

 

“Oh.” Harry blushed, and then shrugged.  “We shouldn’t rule out the others, but it’s sounding more and more like the stone might be the one that’s really here.”

 

He continued reading aloud a little longer, but soon put the book away so they could head to dinner.  When they returned and were getting ready for bed, Harry asked Draco, “I wanted to ask you earlier; what is it about Hermione Granger that upsets you so much?  Is it just that she’s bossy, nosey, and talks too much?  …It’s not that she’s muggle born… is it?”

 

Draco grumbled, and didn’t answer for a long moment, “Well… she _is_ muggle born.” He said at last, and before Harry could ask what that had to do with it he added swiftly, “Muggle born witches and wizards don’t know our ways, they bring shame to pureblooded wizards like the Malfoys, the Blacks, and even the Potters, it’s just not right, letting them take opportunities that are meant for real wizards who’ve been doing this for generations.  Father says they shouldn’t even be allowed to attend Hogwarts.  They really need to know their place, and…”

 

“Stop it.” Draco finally noticed Harry’s dark look, “You sound just like my cousin Dudley, and he’s just about the biggest prat I’ve ever known.”

 

 “I’m not…”

 

“You hate her just because of who her parents are, Draco.  And that’s wrong.”

 

“It’s not just that, she’s a bossy know-it-all, and…”

 

“And what?” Harry scowled, “Do you have any idea what its like to be picked on, for no other reason than where you come from?  The Dursleys hate that I’m a wizard, they never told me because they hoped they could beat it out of me.  They hated my mum and dad; her own sister hated her because she was a witch.  Dudley picks on me, and gets his friends to pick on me too.  And why?  Because of who and what my parents were.”

 

“How can they…” Draco fumed, sitting up straighter and glaring, but not at Harry.  In a way Draco’s outrage made Harry feel a bit better, but Draco wasn’t quite finished yet, “It’s not… I can’t…” He struggled to find the right words to express his fury, which was plainly written on his face.

 

“That’s… impossible!” Draco finally got out.

 

“What is?” Now it was Harry’s turn to be confused.

 

“You’re a wizard, Muggles can’t do anything to you, how did… why did you let them get away with that?”

 

“Let them?” Harry squeaked, shocked at the very idea that he’d ever been given a choice.  “I only just found out I was a wizard last summer, remember?  I never knew any spells or had anyone to show me.  Every time I did anything _‘funny’_ Uncle Vernon would punish me, I was afraid of my magic, before I even knew I had it.  Uncle Vernon even tried to keep my Hogwarts letter from me; he tore up hundreds of them before Hagrid managed to give me one in person.”

 

“That’s outrageous!” Draco sounded just like his father Lucius when he said that, “You should… er… get back at them, you’re a wizard; you could do plenty to make them regret ever crossing you, put them in their place!” Draco obviously thought this was a perfect solution, his face stern with righteous indignation as he nodded approval at his own idea, but Harry shook his head.  “I’ll write to my father.”  Draco continued, “He’ll take care of them for you.”

 

“How am I any better than them if I use my magic to be nothing more than a bully?” Harry frowned, and sighed.

 

“But… Of _course_ you’re better.  It’s wrong; letting them do that.  You have to stop it.  If we were allowed to do magic out of school I’d go with you and help you curse them.”

 

“Then _you’d_ be no better than a bully.  I’ve already gotten mad at you for bullying Hermione, I don’t need you threatening my family.”

 

“I’m not like that, and they’re nasty to you, how can you defend them, they’re not even magic?”

 

“You _do_ act like that, Draco, maybe not all the time, but around Hermione, and sometimes around Ron or Seamus, you act like a bully, and your friends Crabbe and Goyle do too.  The Dursleys may not be very nice, but they _are_ my family, the only family I’ve got left, anyways.”

 

“I don’t think I’m a bully…” Draco insisted, screwing up his face like he’d just tasted a very tart lemon.  “If anyone’s a bully, they are.  All of them, the Dursleys, Ron, Seamus, the lot!  They deserve whatever we give them.  But… you want me to just… let them get away with all that?”

 

“No.” Harry ground his teeth, he felt like he wasn’t phrasing himself well, “Just… don’t pick fights, and stop attacking Hermione, even if she is bossy, it’s just… it’s just not right.”

 

Draco sighed, and growled, and grumbled, but finally agreed, “Fine, I’ll try to be… to be nice… but I still don’t like her.”

 

“You don’t have to.”  Harry nodded, and sighed, starting to feel a bit less tense now that Draco was beginning to see reason, “But don’t go picking fights just because you don’t like her; Seamus and Ron start things, but Hermione doesn’t.”

 

Draco looked thoughtful at that, and finally nodded, “You’re right Harry; Seamus and Ron are just bullies, but I’m better than that, I’m sorry for being so rotten, I just… never thought of it that way.”

 

“I’m sorry for getting angry.” Harry gave Draco a weak smile.  “I just really can’t stand things like that, ‘specially not from my best friend.  I guess that’s why I get so mad when I see people picking on Neville, or Hermione, when I’ve never seen them do anything to deserve it.”

 

“That does makes sense.” Draco smiled back a little, “We’ll do something to make it better, I won’t try to get your family cursed, but maybe you can spend the summer with my family, wouldn’t that be great?”

 

This time Harry’s smile was much warmer.  “I’d really like that, Draco, you’re the best!” then he chuckled and added, “Most the time anyways.”

 

“Oh leave it.  I said I’ll do better.  You know, you’re really smart; I haven’t thought about half the things you do.”

 

Harry blushed a little, “Thanks.” He muttered, “Let’s go to sleep, I’m pretty tired.” Blaise had just walked in, and he really didn’t want to continue this private conversation with an audience, plus he was physically drained from the quidditch match and emotionally drained from fighting yet again.  “Sleep well.” He added as the others drifted one by one into their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this may really be coming into its own now. I had alot of fun writing this particular chapter up.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	8. Chapter 7 – The Dragon, and the Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers Hagrid has a dangerous secret, and suffers for his ban from the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

Flint thought their win against Ravenclaw was too narrow; they’d been behind 110 points when Harry had caught the snitch.  And so over the spring break – the first two weeks of April – he had the team out practicing every day.  Slytherin’s third and final match was the next of the season, and only the Grifindor/Ravenclaw game was left after that.  Even though they had half a term to prepare, Flint wasn’t letting up in the least.

 

To make matters worse, the teachers all seemed to agree that they needed to be studying and working harder, so they all had plenty of homework to keep them occupied.  Harry very deliberately stowed his ‘stones research’ books – as he’d come to refer to them – in his trunk, and refocused on his schoolwork.  They knew more or less what they needed to know about the artifacts, and since they were banned from the library for the rest of the year, they had their work cut out for them studying for exams.

 

Draco did manage to get some of the other Slytherins to check out books for them, but it would have been a lot easier if they’d had library access the same as the rest of the school.

 

Harry had an idea about that, however, and it didn’t take much to convince Draco to sneak out with him under the cover of his invisibility cloak to spend a little time in the library in the evenings.  Harry was even more tired, especially on days he had quidditch practice, but it would hopefully all be worthwhile when it came time for exams.

 

“Hey look at this!” Draco whispered one night as they sat together using light from their wands to read by.  He pointed to a page in the book he was reading about one of the potions they’d been working on in Snape’s class.  “I think we may have gotten this part wrong, what do you think?  The book describes the scar rejuvenation potion as being sort of a reddish color, ours was kind of brown, don’t you think?  Maybe we need more tentacula sap?”

 

“I don’t know.”  Harry whispered back, “I’m not sure I want to mess with it at this point; it still has to brew for a few more days, and we’ve already been working on it a week.”  They both jumped when something clattered further back in the library, like a few books falling from their shelves.

 

“I’ll go see what that was.” Harry muttered.

 

“Don’t forget your cloak.” Draco reminded him, handing Harry the silvery soft material.  He put out the light from his wand and hid in one corner while Harry tip-toed between the shelves towards the source of the noise.

 

At first he thought he must have imagined the sound, but then he heard someone whisper.  “How am I supposed to get past _that_?”

 

Harry paused, ready to turn around and go back the other way when he heard a second voice.  “Everything has a weakness, just like that three-headed dog.”

 

He paused, torn, glancing behind him, but ultimately his curiosity got the better of him, and he crept closer.  Was this the same person who’d tried to get past Fluffy on Halloween?  Apparently he had an accomplice…

 

“That looks like it, but the book doesn’t say anything about how to stop it from strangling you?” The first voice said again.

 

Harry thought he saw a flicker of light around the corner of the closest bookshelf, and edged right up to it to try and peer past it.  His heart leapt into his throat when something thumped to the ground, and he realized he’d knocked a thin tome from the shelf that hadn’t been pushed in all the way.

 

“Someone’s there?!” The first voice gasped.

 

“Quickly!” His companion hissed softly, and Harry heard swift steps padding away from him.

 

He let his breath loose all in a rush, his heart hammering in his chest.  But when everything was silent for a few more moments he moved around the book case to see what was left there.  A bunch of books had been hastily dropped onto a table next to a shelf, and one of them was open.  He approached and picked it up daring a small light from his wand to see what was on the page.  It was an herbology book, open to something called ‘Devil’s Snare’.  He took the book back to where Draco was hiding.

 

“What do you make of this?” Harry asked, lighting his wand once more.  He showed Draco the page, “I heard two men talking about this and the three-headed dog.  He was trying to figure out a way to get past this stuff, I think.”

 

Draco scanned the pages, and frowned a bit after a moment.  “It’s kind of vicious, a strangling plant.  You said you heard them mention the three-headed dog?”  They returned the book, then quietly left the library.  Draco was silent – lost in thought – and when Harry tried to prod him he shushed him while he mulled it over.

 

“If it were me, I would have more than just one thing guarding the artifact.  So maybe someone’s got some of this devil’s snare protecting it too?”  He said at last.

 

“As if Fluffy wasn’t enough?  But if he’s seen a second defense, that must mean he’s figured out a way past Fluffy?” Harry did not like the sound of that.

 

“That could be, so whoever that was in there, they’ll need to figure out how to get past that as well.  I’ll bet Professor Sprout knows all about devil’s snare.  Think we should ask her?”

 

“Like she’d tell us?  If Dumbledore has some devil’s snare protecting the artifact, who do you think put it there?  Sprout’s not going to tell us anything about it; students shouldn’t really know about it in the first place.”

 

“Oh right.”  Draco acknowledged.  By that point they’d reached a corridor outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room.  It was quite late, and they were both tired, so they made sure the invisibility cloak covered them completely, then slipped inside to head to bed, hopefully with no one realizing they’d ever been out.

 

* * * * *

 

When the new term started, their workload was even heavier.  With the end of year exams looming, their schedules felt impossibly full.  After the first arduous week – filled with late night studying and borrowed books – Harry and Draco decided that they really needed a few hours to let off some steam; they were starting to make mistakes.  Harry’s hand was cramping from all the notes he’d been taking, and Draco was complaining of having eye strain.

 

So Harry sent a note to Hagrid asking if they could visit that afternoon.  Instead of writing back, Hagrid managed to find Harry in the courtyard, “‘Ello ‘Arry.”  He was fidgeting, and smiling, but looked a little out of sorts, “I got yer letter, I dunno if today’s tha best day fer ya ter visit, but maybe ye’d like to come by another time?” he suggested.

 

“I don’t know if I can, Hagrid.” He sighed, even here they’d been studying.  He set his books aside and stretched stiffly before explaining.  “I’m swamped with work, and I just feel I need a little time off – Draco too – and it’s been ages since we visited, I’ve hardly seen you since before Christmas.  I need a break, and I don’t know when I’ll have another afternoon… sort of free.”

 

Hagrid shuffled his big feet, “Awright.  C’mon down ter me hut, then.”  He leaned closer and lowered his voice, “But keep it quiet, Ah’ve uh… been workin’ on sommat… personal.”

 

Harry nodded, and Draco was intrigued at the idea that there was something Hagrid was keeping secret.  They did promise not to talk about it though, and Harry checked around just to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

 

There were a few Hufflepuff students nearby, as well as Peter Connolly strolling across the courtyard, but no one seemed to be paying them much mind.  “What time should we come?”

 

“Whenever yer ‘ave time, ‘Arry.  I should get back, got… er, business ter mind.” He smiled, a warm twinkle in his eye that was a shade more jovial than Harry was used to seeing even from Hagrid.  He patted Harry on the back before ambling off out of the castle, a bounce in his step that was more than a little out of place on a man his size.

 

“What do you suppose _that_ was about?” Draco asked, and Harry shrugged.

 

They finished up what they were working on, and started down to the hut around mid-afternoon.  It was a very nice day, one of the nicest they’d had so far this year, and Harry enjoyed being outside in the sunlight for a time.  “I hope the weather is this good when we play our match against Hufflepuff.” Harry commented, then stopped to knock on Hagrid’s door.

 

Inside, the hut was like a furnace, and Draco immediately complained, “Why don’t you open the curtains?  It’s nice outside, but you’ve got it sweltering in here…” he moved toward the window, but Hagrid stopped him, even though he was obviously hot and sweating into his beard.

 

“I can’t, got ter leave it fer now.  Jus’ sit tight, an ‘ave a drink.”  He poured them cups of tea, which were warm, but still helped them feel a little better.  Hagrid put the teapot back on the window sill just outside the curtain and turned back to face them as they sat.

 

“Why’s it so hot in here?” Harry asked, “What is it you’re being so secret about, is it anything to do with the stone?”

 

“The what?!” Hagrid gasped and spluttered his drink, getting drops of dark liquid in his whiskers.

 

Draco grinned, but then quickly composed himself and built on Harry’s lucky slip.  “The stone Fluffy’s guarding.” He said, causing Hagrid to color more.

 

“Tha’s Hogwarts business, how’d ye find out about that anyways?  Someone’s gonna think I told ya.”

 

“It wasn’t that hard, really.” Harry shrugged, pretending nonchalance.  “We knew how big it was since I saw you get it out of the Gringotts vault.” Hagrid looked sheepish, and sat down rather suddenly, but didn’t interrupt.  “We knew someone was after it, because of the troll on Halloween, and we just did a little research and narrowed it down till only the stone was left.  I bet we’re not the only ones who figured it out either.”

 

“Well yeah.”  Draco grinned, and added, “Whoever tried to get at it on Halloween found out about it long before we did.”

 

“And don’t forget whoever broke into Gringotts; that was even earlier.”  Harry finished.

 

“I don’t want ye pokin’ around in this.” Hagrid told Harry, “Tha philosopher’s stone is well guarded, and ye’ll only get yerself in trouble if ya mess in Dumbledore’s business.  No one won’t get near it, I promise.  So there’s nothin’ fer you ter worry ‘bout.”

 

Harry and Draco shared a pleased sidelong look, knowing for certain now which stone was being guarded.  Hagrid wrung his hands and looked at his feet, then glanced towards his fireplace.

 

Harry followed his gaze, “Hagrid?  What is that?” Draco looked as soon as Harry asked the question, and they both stared at a subtly mottled, oblong, polished-black orb, baking in the heat of the kettle.  Hagrid looked even more timid than usual.  “Is that… an egg?”

 

“A dragon egg, I’ll bet!” Draco interjected, “Those are illegal!  Merlin’s beard, how’d you get it?  I’ve tried just about everything, but it just didn’t seem possible.”

 

“Weren’t that ‘ard, really.” Hagrid shrugged, “I won it, off a stranger over at the Hogs Head.”

 

“Do you know how to take care of it?” Draco asked, moving a little closer, with Harry not too far behind.

 

“Sure, I got a book from the libry, ‘splains a lot ‘bout this sort o’ thing, like how ter keep ‘em warm, and how ter identify differ’nt eggs.  This ‘ere’s a…”

 

“Norwegian ridgeback.” Draco’s voice was the closest to reverent Harry had ever heard, and he smiled, enjoying his friends’ mutual fascination.  “Do you have a place to keep it?  Your hut’s made of wood, it’ll go up like a firecracker if you don’t do something about that.”

 

“Didnae think ‘bout that.  Maybe Ah’ll, uh…”

 

“Harry, didn’t we learn a charm for…?”

 

“Oh yes, inflagro lentus, wasn’t it?”  Harry looked around, thinking it’d take a small army coming in here to bespell the place every day to keep it from going up in smoke.

 

“We could come by to help fireproof the house.” Harry offered, “The charm only lasts about a day, but we could probably fit it into our schedules if we made it a routine.”

 

“Yer really wanna help me with ‘im?” Hagrid’s eyes sparkled, and he was humming under his breath.

 

“Of course!” Draco assured him, and Harry’s heart warmed that they were getting along so well, for once.  “I’ve always wanted a dragon, but Father says it’s too risky to even try to own one at home.”

 

“We’ll do what we can, but I just hope you don’t get in trouble for it, we’ll have to keep it secret.”

 

“Was goin’ ter move ‘im down ter a spot in tha forest when he got bigger.” Hagrid explained, “No law says Hogwarts can’t ‘ave a dragon in ther forest.”

 

“Unless it burns it down.” Harry half joked, but was certain they’d have plenty of time to find a more permanent solution, right now he was just sharing in their excitement.

 

They worked out a schedule, with Harry visiting Hagrid in the evenings after supper, and Draco coming by in the mornings before lunch.  And whenever they had an hour or two free in the afternoon they’d both come by.  In the days that followed, it was always hot in Hagrid’s hut, but they were having fun with this new ‘conspiracy’.

 

* * * * *

 

It was a Friday when Harry received a note from Hagrid with only two words on it.  “Its hatching!”  Harry and Draco skipped History of Magic in order to run down to the hut to watch.  It was over an hour before the ugly little thing forced its way out of its sleek black-shelled egg, all folds and wrinkles with bulging eyes and little nubs where its horns would be.  When it sneezed a few sparks – catching fire to Hagrid’s beard – both Harry and Draco immediately began casting their anti-flame charm on any flammable object they could find, as Hagrid patted out his smoldering whiskers.

 

“What about his beard?” Harry asked.  “That’s obviously flammable too…”

 

“Don’t think the charm works on beards…” Draco replied.  “Remember, Flitwick says charms meant for objects can have unexpected effects when cast on people.”

 

“Hair isn’t alive though, so it might work.”

 

“Where’d you hear that?” Draco blinked.

 

“I don’t know, think it was in biology.”

 

“Don’t you mean herbology?”

 

“No, biology.  It’s a class in muggle school.”

 

Draco just stared for a moment, “Muggle… school?!  What do muggles have to go to school for?”

 

“Lots of stuff, apparently.” Harry grumbled, “Most of it pretty boring compared to Hogwarts.”

 

“Even so, it’s still attached to him.  How do you cast the spell on his beard, but not the rest of him?”

 

“Thanks all the same, Ah’ll be fine, yer two.” Hagrid was looking a little uncomfortable listening to their discussion.  “It’s fortunate yer didnae ‘ave class this mornin’, so ya could come down ter help me out with this.”

 

“Actually, we kind of cut class…”  Draco admitted.

 

“Why’d ya go an do a thing like that fer?  You should get back right now before yer get into any more trouble.”

 

“It was only History of Magic.  I’ll be surprised if Binns even notices we’re gone.”

 

“Binns is still teaching?” Hagrid blinked, “Blimey, ‘e was ancient when _I_ was yer age…”

 

“Actually, he’s a ghost now.  Plus, his class is probably over by…”  At that moment they heard the Hogwarts bells chime distantly.  “I think that means we’re going to be late to next class?”  Draco glanced at Harry.

 

“Oh no, you’re right, and we’ve got _Snape_ next!”  Harry gasped.

 

“I’m sure he’ll understand.”  Draco began, but Harry was already pulling him out the door.

 

They barely made it back in time for Potions, and fidgeted and whispered excitedly whenever Snape wasn’t paying attention to them.  Unfortunately, Snape was generally very attentive, and they only got a few whispered words in here and there when he was scolding a Gryffindor or examining someone’s work across the room.

 

Then, after lunch, they then sat down and tried to figure out ways to expand their schedule even more to fit in additional time with Hagrid and his dragon over the following weeks.

 

“What about ‘Scorpio’?” Draco asked Hagrid the next time he and Harry were able to visit together, reading from a list of names he’d written down on a sheet of parchment.

 

“I like Norbert just fine.” Hagrid insisted, watching the little dragon run around the hut and play on the floor with Fang.  Draco had been trying for the last half hour at least to convince Hagrid to rename the ugly thing.  Harry just watched and listened, bemused.

 

“ ‘Firebrand’?”  Draco continued, undeterred, “Or what about ‘Rex’?”

 

“Don’t like neither of those.” Hagrid grumped, managing to grab the dragon before it could chew on Fang’s ear.  Draco had informed them that Norwegian Ridgebacks were venomous, and while Norbert might not have much venom yet – being so young – there was no sense taking unnecessary risks.

 

“What are we going to do about the poison once he starts getting bigger, and his teeth are longer?”  Harry asked, since it was on his mind already.

 

“I’ve got an idea about that.”  Draco grinned, “Antivenom potions.”

 

“Do you know where we’re going to get something like that?”  Harry wondered aloud.

 

“We can make it ourselves.  We’re both aces in potions class, so I’m sure we can brew up something that’ll work just fine.”

 

They each took turns playing with Norbert – though the dragon was a bit rough, and they had to be very careful.  Hagrid already had some minor scratches from the thing’s teeth and claws, and it was growing fast, already several inches longer than when it had hatched.

 

Harry and Draco snuck to the library that night to find books on antivenom potions, and after nearly an hour of searching, Draco found the exact one he wanted.

 

“We’re not going to be able to keep this secret.” Draco was saying on the way back from Hagrid’s house, after a few more days had passed, sounding very disappointed to hear himself say it.  “Norbert’s just growing too fast; he’s going to wreck Hagrid’s hut.  We have to figure out something to do with him.  He’s not old enough to be on his own yet, but we can’t just keep him locked up with Hagrid all the time, his poison is going to become a problem, and he’s starting to get a lot of fire in him, for a baby.”

 

“I know, but what can we do?  Maybe we can make a pen for him?  Somewhere close by in the forest?”

 

“Maybe.” Draco sighed, “This is turning into a lot more work than I’d expected, and it’s wearing me thin.”

 

“You were already thin, Draco.  And I have quidditch practice too, on top of studying, homework, exams in a couple months, and Norbert.” Harry teased.

 

Draco chuckled, “Guess you have me there.”

 

They were almost late to Charms, and then Herbology after that.  Harry suggested they needed to focus a little more on walking faster instead of discussing plans for the dragon.

 

“How’s the antidote potion coming along?”  Harry asked on the way to Doubles Charms class Wednesday morning.

 

“It’s trickier than I thought, I still haven’t gathered all the ingredients.”  Draco unrolled the recipe he’d copied so they could take a quick look while they walked.

 

“How are we even going to get most of that stuff?”  Harry wondered as they looked over the ingredient list.

 

“I’m not sure.” Draco paused, as a first year Hufflepuff walked past, and glanced their way.  He waited until the boy turned a corner, though Harry thought the Hufflepuff had hesitated for just a moment before disappearing out of sight.  “I could ask Severus, he’s got a personal stash in his office, he might have some of this.”

 

“I’d rather not involve him.” Harry sighed, “I don’t think he likes Hagrid, and if he suspects Hagrid’s got an illegal dragon, he might get him fired.”

 

“I know.  I’ll see if there’s another way to make the antidote first, I’ll…”

 

Harry held up a hand, spotting the same Hufflepuff boy when they got to the next intersection.  Harry thought he’d been looking their way but he quickly vanished into a classroom just as he and Draco came into sight.  He recalled he’d seen the boy around several times recently, and it occurred to Harry that he might be following them.  “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this in the halls anymore.” He said softly, as they went up a flight of stairs to get to their classroom.

 

Draco nodded, and they focused on their charms lesson, trying not to let the Ravenclaw students outdo them for the next two hours.

 

Draco managed to find some of his potion ingredients over the next few days, and somehow they kept Norbert from burning down Hagrid’s house, but Harry and the other quidditch players were being hounded by Flint, since they only had one more week before their final match.  “Here’s a good one; ‘Spike’!”  Draco read from a new list to Hagrid.

 

“Why’re ye still goin’ on ‘bout this?” Hagrid crooned, scratching the dragon under his chin and behind the side of his jaw, just where he seemed to enjoy it most.  “Norbert’s perfectly ‘appy as Norbert, i’n’t ‘e?”

 

“Okay, how about ‘Django’?  That’s an interesting name, isn’t it?”

 

“You know Draco.” Harry interjected, “I really don’t think Hagrid’s going to budge on this.  You’ve come up with some fun names, but maybe you should just save them for when _you_ have your own pet dragon?”

 

Draco’s eyes lit up, and he grinned at Harry, “You think I’ll manage it?”

 

“Yeah, maybe you can get a license for it or something when you’re older?”

 

“I suppose it’s possible…” Draco very happily mulled that thought over while Harry leapt onto the table to save his shin from being gnawed on by the dragon.

 

 

Saturday came, and both Harry and Draco had a little time off, so they headed out after lunch, and went to check on Hagrid.  “I’ve got the anti-venom potion started.”  Draco announced.  “It should be ready by Monday.”

 

“Well, I hope we don’t need it before then.”  Harry mused.  Fang had been relegated outside since the dragon was very energetic, and seemed hungry all the time now.  He’d also fully teethed and even Hagrid with his thick skin was taking extra care by wrapping his hands in tough cloth to play with Norbert.  Harry was just as happy to sit on the table, with his limbs out of easy reach, while Draco was a bit torn between caution and wanting to be close to the dragon.

 

“How’d you get those last two ingredients anyways?  I know we owled off for a couple things, but we couldn’t find…”  Draco’s expression had gone a little sheepish, and Harry knew immediately he’d been ‘up to something’.  “What did you do?”

 

“I asked Severus.” Draco informed his friends.  “I told him I was working on an extra credit project, so he doesn’t know what I need it for.  It’s just two ingredients, he won’t be able to guess what I’m making just from that.”

 

Harry glowered, but the effect was spoiled when Norbert jumped up into Draco’s lap and nipped playfully at the front of his robe.  “Careful, Norbert.”  Draco admonished.  “Here, chew on this?”  He grabbed a discarded bone from the floor and let Norbert clamp his teeth on one end while he played tug of war holding onto the other, all the while the dragon made the most vicious sounds Harry had ever heard from it, but its eyes were alight with glee, and its tail thumped the wood floor as it played.

 

“He’s getting huge!” Draco said the next day, the moment they got inside.  Norbert had grown nearly four times his length since he’d hatched the previous week.

 

“Aint ‘e beau’iful?!” Hagrid’s eyes shown as he smiled at the rampant dragon now crawling under the table and looking for food.

 

“Harry and I thought we might make a pen for him in the forest close to your hut, just out of sight, but big enough for him to have room to run around in, so he won’t destroy your home.” Draco was saying, hopping on a stool to avoid being rammed by the dog sized baby dragon.

 

“We might be able ter, but I can’t jus’ leave ‘im.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be alright for a few hours.  We’ll do it when he settles for a nap.” Draco smiled, and Hagrid returned it.  “Awright.  I s’pose we’d better get star’ed on it sooner than later.  Can ya two watch ‘im, while I get some things set up?”

 

They did just that, keeping Norbert occupied and trying to tire him out, though it seemed after a while that they were going to tire out long before Norbert did.

 

Hagrid spent most of Sunday afternoon out in the forest preparing.  When he returned later in the evening they still had to wait almost an hour for Norbert to settle down – finally exhausted – and curl up in the corner under Hagrid’s bed.

 

The three of them went outside together, just to the edge of the forbidden forest, where Draco suddenly balked, “Uh, Hagrid, there aren’t _really_ werewolves in the forest, are there?”

 

“Not tha’ I’ve ever seen.” Hagrid assured him, “Centaurs though, but nothin’ that’ll hurt ya if yer with me er Fang.”

 

Hagrid led them to a small clearing only a little ways into the forest.  Draco had a spell he used to try and get all the leaves and debris out of the way, while Hagrid took care of some of the bigger rocks and such.  Draco balked again when they started moving timbers Hagrid had placed at the edge of the clearing, “That’s servant work…” he muttered to no one in particular.

 

“Draco!  There’s no servants we can ask to help us with this.  If you want to help, we need to do this together.  Hagrid can handle some of these on his own, but I need your help if we’re going to lift any of them.”

 

“Can’t we just use that levitation charm?”  Draco pointed his wand, and in a practiced movement, he cast the spell, “Wingardium Leviosa.” then grunted as the heavy log rose into the air.

 

“Oh tha’s brilliant!” Hagrid smiled, and Harry had to admit, even if they were almost too heavy for the charm, that levitating them was a lot easier than trying to move them manually, though Hagrid of course had no problem lifting them with his bare hands.

 

It took them a little while to get a fence set up, and they angled some timbers over the top to prevent Norbert from climbing the fence, or even flying away.  It was big enough that even Hagrid could take several strides from one end to the other, and it would suit Norbert just fine, at least for a while.

 

“Now me and Draco will fireproof this, you go check on Norbert.”  Harry was already feeling a bit tired out, but he wanted to get this finished.  They spent another ten minutes casting their fire-proof charm on every beam individually, then went back to Hagrid’s hut, where he’d prepared some more tea and rock cakes for them.

 

They chatted a little longer, mostly about the dragon, then Harry stood and stretched.  “Are we ready to move him tonight?” he asked.

 

Draco glanced outside to see the sun starting to set then suddenly froze, “Hagrid, someone’s coming.”

 

Harry went to the window and glanced out, “It’s that Hufflepuff boy; the one who’s been following us.” He gasped.  They tried to get Norbert to run under the bed by tossing some of his food – half a crate of dead rats and a bowl full of chicken blood laced with brandy – underneath, then sat down to pretend to drink tea as Hagrid answered the door.

 

“‘Ello.  Can I get yer somethin’?” He asked.

 

“Hello.” The boy smiled, but it was a somewhat sinister looking smile to Harry’s eye.  He watched him carefully through the gap between the door frame and Hagrid’s coat.

 

“I’m Zacharias Smith, I don’t think I’ve ever come down to introduce myself before, and I had a little free time so I…”

 

A puff of flame jetted out from under the bed, and Harry jumped.

 

“What’s that?” Zach tried to lean in to get a better look, but Hagrid blocked the doorway.

 

“Jus’ ‘avin’ tea with ‘Arry an’ Draco.” He stuttered, “It were nice of ye to come an’ see me, but yer should probably come back another time.”

 

“Norbert, no!” Harry hissed as the curious dragon emerged and started toward the open door.

 

Hagrid turned, and when he saw where the dragon was headed he quickly slammed the door in Smith’s face.  “Err, sorry, I’ll talk ter ye later!” he called through the door.

 

Harry went to the window, and glanced outside.  Zacharias wore an expression of pure glee as he turned and ran back towards the castle.

 

“I don’t think he bought it.” Draco muttered, peering over Harry’s shoulder, “C’mon let’s get Norbert out to the pen before he brings someone back to get us in trouble!”

 

Together they harnessed Norbert with a makeshift rope, and led him quickly outside and to the pen they’d constructed, arriving back at the hut just as Smith was returning with a teacher in tow.  Harry’s heart sunk into his stomach when Professor Snape’s pale visage materialized out of the gloom of the freshly fallen night.

 

“Good evening, Hagrid.” Snape began in his usual bored drawl, his gaze passing over Harry almost as if he wasn’t there, and pausing briefly on Draco, who smiled thinly.

 

“Young Mr. Smith here was just telling me a rather… absurd story.” He sneered at the Hufflepuff boy, who reddened in the face.  “However, as it concerned two Slytherin students I decided to come check on it myself.  Additionally, something Draco said to me recently gave me some cause for concern.”

 

“I don’ know what yer were tol’.”  Hagrid blustered, “But ever’thin’s fine an’ dandy ‘ere.”

 

“I’m sure.” Snape moved forwards, towards the door, “Then you won’t mind if I take a look inside.”

 

Before Hagrid could stop him, he opened the door and stepped in uninvited.  He paused and examined the room, with Hagrid crowding close behind.  Harry had no idea what he made of the gnawed and splintered bones still strewn about.  He very carefully examined what was in the cups, as well as several empty bottles of brandy, and other things nearby.

 

When he emerged he wore the exact same expression as he had before entering, and addressed Zacharias Smith first.  “Mr. Smith.  I will take this from here.  I suggest you return to school.  You won’t want to miss dinner.”

 

Zach nodded, looking as if he couldn’t decide if he wished he could stay and find out what was going to happen, or wanted to leave to get away from Snape, but ultimately he turned and headed back up to the castle.  “You as well, Potter, Draco.  You should both return.”

 

“Don’t get him in trouble.” Draco said rather suddenly, and Snape’s brow rose in surprise, “Hagrid’s my friend, so please don’t get him in trouble.”

 

This seemed to take the Potions Master aback, and for the first time in Harry’s memory, he seemed at a loss for words.  Finally he cleared his throat and said, “Draco. Tell me what’s been going on, and I’ll do what I can.  You have my word.”

 

Draco sighed, and looked a little dejected, but finally, after glancing at Hagrid’s ashen face – he looked just about in tears – Draco said, “Hagrid got a dragon egg, he wanted to raise it and make a place for it in the forest, Harry and I helped him, by fireproofing his house, and helping him figure out how to take care of it, like building a pen for it to run around in, he was going to let it go, as soon as it was strong enough to survive on its own, and… well… you know I’ve always wanted a dragon, I couldn’t help it, I _had_ to help!”

 

This was the second time Draco had stuck his neck out for someone else, at the risk of getting himself in serious trouble, and Harry didn’t know what to say.

 

Snape regarded Hagrid, who nodded, confirming Draco’s story.  “This is most unsuitable behavior, Hagrid.  I’d wondered why you were falling behind in your duties, and to involve students as well… quite… irresponsible.  Dumbledore will have to be told.”

 

“Does he have to?  Can’t Hagrid just let the dragon go when it’s big enough?”

 

“I’m sorry, Draco, we can’t have a full grown dragon living in the forest.  It would upset things too much.  As for you.” Draco flinched, and looked down, Harry held his breath, dreading whatever would happen next.

 

“It’ll be fifty points from Slytherin.” Snape finished after a short pause.

 

“What?  You can’t do that to…”

 

Snape interrupted Draco, “It _should_ be fifty _each_.  I’ll also be assigning each of you detention.  More is expected of you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.  Now, get to dinner before I change my mind.”

 

Draco stood there stunned, and Harry didn’t really blame him.  Snape had _never_ taken points from Draco before.  He had to drag Draco away to dinner; he wasn’t sure he’d have made it on his own.  Harry didn’t really taste his food, and by the time they went up to get ready for bed, the news had spread that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had lost fifty points for Slytherin, losing them the lead for the house cup.  They were still ahead of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but they weren’t the most popular two students in Slytherin right then.

 

* * * * *

 

Flint hounded Harry even more during practice on Monday, and the rest of the team also seemed more than a bit cold to him.  Harry grit his teeth and bore it, hoping they’d forget about it after a week or two.  He was determined to win the points back somehow.

 

When they went to visit Hagrid that evening, everyone was subdued.  “So what happened with Snape?” Harry asked, as they leaned against the edge of the paddock and watched Norbert running around the pen.  “Obviously you haven’t been sacked…”

 

“We tol’ Dumbledore, together.” Hagrid explained, “Dumbledore’s made arrangements.”  Hagrid started to tear up.  “Gonna send Norbert off ter Romania, where ‘e’ll be cared for by esperts until ‘e’s big enough ter release inter tha wild with other Dragons.”

 

“That sounds like a good arrangement then.”  Draco gave Hagrid an encouraging smile.  “Norbert will be in good hands.”

 

“But wha’ if ‘e don’t like Romania?  Wha’ if tha other dragons pick on him, ‘e’s still a baby afterall?”

 

“It’ll be okay.”  Harry cut in.  “This is for the best.  You trust Dumbledore, don’t you?”

 

Hagrid nodded, and seemed a little more cheerful as they spent the rest of the evening before dinner watching the ‘little’ dragon run and play.

 

On Thursday they returned once more to keep Hagrid company as he said goodbye to Norbert.  They arrived right after lunch, and at first had some cakes Draco had brought for the occasion, then went out to the pen where Hagrid snuck a few of the cakes to Norbert, now nearly big enough for Harry or Draco to ride on.  Some witches were to arrive that afternoon to take Norbert away, so they just chatted with Hagrid for several hours about nothing specific.

 

They even sang a couple songs to bid Norbert farewell, though Hagrid was off key, and Draco kept missing notes.  It didn’t matter; they’d all become very close through the whole ordeal and it was enough just to be there together to see it through.

 

The witches arrived just after 4-o-clock, and managed to get Norbert into a specially designed harness before flying off, carrying him away slung between their brooms.  Hagrid, Harry, and Draco waved until they were out of sight, then Harry and Draco said goodbye to Hagrid so they could get back to the castle.

 

“Morsmordre!  We never got to use my potion!” Draco gasped halfway up the hill.

 

“What potion?” Harry asked.

 

“My antivenom potion, it was ready on Monday.”

 

Harry laughed, and it took a moment before he could compose himself enough to explain his mirth, “Think about what you just said, Draco, what was that potion for?”

 

Draco considered for a moment, then they both were laughing, all the way back to the Slytherin common room.

 

Harry ended up being almost an hour late to quidditch practice, but he really didn’t care.  His friends were more important to him.  Plus, Draco had become such good friends with Hagrid throughout the whole affair with the dragon that Harry couldn’t begrudge either of them the extra time, even if it meant getting scolded by Flint and forced to make penalty shots until he could get 2 in a row past Bletchley.

 

The next day Draco turned in his antivenom potion to Snape after their doubles class with Gryffindor.  He really did get some extra credit for it, just as he’d suggested to Snape when he’d asked for the last ingredients he’d needed.  Harry was a bit bemused by the event, but was happy for Draco.  He deserved a little something extra now that Norbert was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this. This chapter was a little tricky because it started off as part of the next chapter, but I kept adding scenes and rather than let it become as long as chapter 5, I moved a few scenes ahead. I had a lot to say here, however – more than I’d originally anticipated – and I felt it was important to get it all in here.
> 
> Hope it was worth the extra effort. Enjoy!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	9. Chapter 8 – The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the year is fast approaching, and with it, Slytherin’s final Quidditch game, and of course… exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For graphic concepts and descriptions, and dark atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

The little Norwegian Ridgeback was gone, but Harry kept thinking about him even as he prepared for Slytherin’s final Quidditch match of the year.  When Saturday came, he was actually able to eat breakfast, and found himself once again on the quidditch pitch, this time facing off against eleven tall Hufflepuff players.

 

“Hufflepuff has to beat us by a hundred points in order to have a chance at the cup.” Flint had informed them in the locker rooms.  “If we can win this match we’ll have a straight shot, so long as Ravenclaw doesn’t thrash Gryffindor too badly.”

 

Harry knew that a win here could also help them recover the lead for the house cup, since quidditch victories were factored into house points at the end of the year.

 

 “It’s your last game this year.” Madam Hooch told them all as they faced each other, “So let’s keep it friendly, and safe.  Captain Henderson, Hufflepuff is counted as visitors for this match, so you call the toss.  Heads or beasts?”

 

The Hufflepuff captain, Laura Henderson, called beasts, and when the knut landed in Hooch’s waiting hand, she echoed her, “Beasts!  Which goal will you defend, Laura?”

 

“We’ll take the South goal, always a favorable wind from that direction this time of year.” She announced, and smiled at her team as the 14 players who were starting took to the air, and into the now familiar opening formation.  They waited as Hooch released the snitch and the bludgers then launched the quaffle high into the air between Flint and Henderson.

 

“Henderson takes the quaffle, and dashes past Flint!  She passes to Cadwallader, and she… Higgs intercepts, Slytherin has the quaffle…!”  Lee Jordan’s voice carried across the stadium as Harry rose and immediately began circling wide around the perimeter of the field.

 

Harry kept an eye on his rival seeker, a third year boy this time, named Cedric Diggory.  He was grateful Draco wouldn’t be able to tease him about any more girls liking him if he somehow ‘saved’ Cedric too, but he put that thought aside to concentrate on the match.

 

“…Macavoy steals it back, and makes the first score…!” Lee Jordan shouted excitedly, once again favoring the team playing against Harry.  But Harry steeled himself.  He had a job to do, and he was determined to focus as he never had before.  He heard and saw the other players, but it was almost as if it were happening somewhere far off.  Almost, but not quite.

 

He was forced to dodge a bludger, and the beater who’d come after it, as he searched the skies above and the fields below him for a glint of gold while weaving back and forth.  “…Pucey dodges a bludger, and Macavoy, but Henderson checks… no wait, he got his shot off, Fleet misses the block.  No!  Slytherin’s on the board…” Harry could only shake his head at Lee’s obvious bias as announcer, even though he could hear McGonagall’s voice occasionally trying to remind him to keep it ‘fair’.

 

“…Henderson passes to Macavoy, who passes back to Henderson, Henderson dodges Derrik’s bludger.  Pass to Cadwallader, then Macavoy again, then to, no wait Macavoy shoots, but Bletchley blocks…!”  Lucian Bole saved Harry from one of the vicious bludgers, but then Hufflepuff beater, Maxine O’Flaherty, knocked the same heavy ball towards Miles Bletchley, just as Laura Henderson came in for another shot at the goal.  “…Henderson scores…!”

 

Harry continued to circle, but slowed a little when Terrence Higgs came his way a few moments later with the quaffle, and shouted, “Potter!” while pointing past Harry’s shoulder.  Harry turned, and saw Cedric Diggory flying almost on an intercept course towards him.  He weaved out of the way then lay along his broom to follow him at speed while scanning the air ahead for the snitch.  “…Diggory has spotted the Snitch, but Potter’s right on his tail…”  Jordan announced.

 

After a moment Harry wondered if there was some mistake and slowed just a little.  Cedric glanced back at him grinning, and his expression told a sheepish Harry that the maneuver had been nothing but a ruse, and Harry had fallen for it.

 

Red faced, Harry banked off, and renewed his search, flying above the stands, noting that Terrence or one of the other Slytherin chasers had scored while he’d been briefly distracted.  The day was warm enough that even at this altitude he was sweating lightly.  He wiped at his brow with his glove and glanced briefly across the field.  He could spot Hagrid easily in the stands, and if he’d taken the time to look he was certain he would be able to pick out Draco’s blonde hair below him without much difficulty as well.

 

 “…Macavoy has the quaffle, she dodges Flint, and a bludger and… _she scores_ , another ten points for Hufflepuff!...” Jordan cried.

 

“Come on, let’s do this!” Harry muttered under his breath, offering quiet encouragement to himself and his team.  “For Slytherin.  And the cup!” He added, smiling.  Harry noted that the Hufflepuff’s beaters were timing their bludger strikes to send them at the Slytherin keeper when their chasers were approaching the goal.  He hoped his teammates would find a good counter for that strategy.

 

Slytherin was starting to score more and more regularly, but Hufflepuff was really good at penalty shots.  With how fond most of Harry’s team was of fouling, that meant they were increasing their lead at little more than a snail’s pace.  Harry’s search pattern widened, as he winced and mentally chided his teammates for every penalty shot the Hufflepuff’s made, particularly since the Slytherin team had yet to be fouled even once.  Nor were any of the Hufflepuff players cleverly drawing fouls as some of the Ravenclaws or Gryffindors had.

 

It was a while before Harry spotted the snitch, but it was still far too early in the game in his mind to collect it.  It hovered above the Ravenclaw section of the stands and he had to restrain the impulse to chase it down, and instead quickly located Cedric.

 

The smile on his face widened as he realized exactly what he was going to do.  He gripped his broom, and turned in a narrow loop to face downward, settling into a nose dive right past the hovering Madam Hooch.  “…Potter’s spotted the snitch!” he heard Jordan’s commentary, and listened intently hoping he already knew what the next line would be, “Diggory is hot on Potter’s tail, they’re… they’re gonna crash!” but Harry pulled up just in time to avoid even brushing the grass, rising back into the air a little ways and looking down at Cedric below him.  He seemed to just be realizing, he’d fallen for the same ruse he’d used on Harry a little earlier, and Harry couldn’t hold back his telltale grin.

 

Harry’s gaze quickly returned to the stands, and as he’d expected, the snitch was gone, but he also knew Cedric could find it at any moment.

 

Flint had taken advantage of Harry’s distraction to score once more against Hufflepuff, putting them ahead 120 to 80.  Harry resumed his circling, staying a bit lower than usual this time, hoping to be able to hold Cedric off long enough for his team to really increase their lead.  “…Flint passes to Higgs!  Higgs fakes out Henderson, he shoots, Fleet goes to block, Higgs scored another one for Slytherin…!” Harry heard Lee distantly.  Part of him wished he could tune him out completely, but then, he supposed it helped him keep up with what was going on; if he could just learn to keep his eyes looking for the snitch and let his ears tell him what everyone else was doing.  “…Cadwallader passes to… no wait, Higgs just intercepted and, and Fleet misses the block, Higgs scored again?!”  Lee was, of course, aghast at yet another Slytherin score.  “…It looks like Hooch called a foul on Pucey for roughing the keeper.  Higg’s shot is waved off…!”  Harry glanced at where Pucey was, and frowned.  Higgs was one of the few Slytherins who seemed to avoid fouls.  “…Macavoy lines up her penalty shot.  She shoots, is it…?  No!  Bletchley blocks it.  Slytherin still leads one-thirty to eighty”

 

Harry didn’t know if another feint would work if he spotted the snitch again, and he worried that Cedric would find it first.  The Hufflepuff seeker seemed to really know what he was doing.  Harry widened his search pattern yet again, but schooled himself not to show his excitement should he spot the snitch.

 

A quick glance periodically told him that Slytherin was indeed increasing their lead; though Hufflepuff wasn’t going down without a fight.  A time out was called when Lucian Bole took a bludger to the face, and had to be taken to the hospital wing.  That left Slytherin team with no remaining reserve players, as two of their starters had been benched for fouls already.  Harry wondered if he’d ever come to terms with the viciousness of some of his teammates, especially Marcus Flint, who would usually take any opportunity to incapacitate an opposing player even if it meant earning a penalty for their team.

 

As Peter Connolly readied himself to take over for Lucian, Flint addressed the huddled players.  “C’mon guys; Connolly is a pretty solid beater.  His… cousin is it?  Plays for Ireland.  We’re doing well, and we’re going to keep doing well.  Let’s give them hell, and end this with a bang.  We’ve run out of reserves, so we need to ease off of the fouls until Pucey can get back in the game.  We don’t want to have to play short-handed.  Harry, it’s time to get that snitch so they don’t outlast us.  Their chasers have stamina, if nothing else, let’s get back out there and win the cup!”

 

 Harry agreed, but secretly thought he should still wait a little longer to see if they could increase their lead even more.

 

Marcus scored a few times, and remarkably, Hufflepuff wasn’t awarded any more penalty shots.

 

Another twenty minutes passed, and Adrian Pucey was released from sitting out.  Almost immediately, Flint managed to ram Cedric when he thought he’d spotted the snitch, but the Hufflepuff seeker seemed to be made of stern stuff, and he got right back into the game after making his penalty shot.

 

Harry spotted the snitch twice, and each time his rival wasn’t close enough to see it, so he didn’t pursue it.  Suddenly, Hooch’s whistle sounded out, and play ceased.  Harry descended with his teammates and alighted near Flint.  “Was there another foul?  What’s the time out for?”

 

“You didn’t know?  Oh, we get a fifteen minute stretch every two hours for Hogwarts quidditch.  Professional teams typically go longer.”  Harry nodded, then drank down a large mug of water brought to him by a Slytherin fan, and waved at Hagrid before taking to the air once more.  This time, his team took up formation guarding the South goal.  Harry could only assume that the teams switching sides after the break must be a standard rule.

 

Slytherin was leading by a lot now, with the scoreboard reading 230 to 140.  The rest allowed them to get back into the game with renewed vigor, and the Hufflepuff captain, Laura Henderson, who’d been knocked from her broom a little earlier was able to return to play as well.

 

Both teams let their reserve keepers play – since neither starting keeper had had a break – and Harry hoped Graham Montague would be able to hold onto their lead the way Miles Bletchley had been.  Almost right away Harry noticed the fresh keepers seemed to be holding out just fine against the weary chasers.  Cedric Diggory even took a break and allowed his reserve seeker, Heather Bennet to play for a few minutes in his stead.

 

Harry felt a surge of panic when Heather streaked across the edge of his vision a few minutes later.  He immediately gave chase, scanning the air ahead for the snitch.  He saw it right in her path, and gasped, wondering what he would do.  “…Bennett’s on the snitch, with Potter right behind, he’s catching up but can he…?”  Jordan’s voice seemed distant as Harry focused on his target.  Heather’s broom was only a little slower than his, and he didn’t think he’d catch up to the weaving snitch before she did, so in a moment of shear panic, he reached out, and grabbed his opponent’s broom tail.

 

“…Potter blagged Bennett!” Jordan screamed in glee; seeming to gain particular excitement from Harry’s first foul, or perhaps he just relished the idea that Hufflepuff would get yet another penalty shot – which Heather easily scored – while both teams regarded Harry, who looked down guiltily.  He hadn’t really meant to foul her, but he’d reacted instinctively.  Her teammates did not look kindly on Harry, while some of the Slytherins seemed to observe him with renewed respect, not that he felt he deserved respect for what he’d done.

 

That wasn’t the end of it either.  Before play resumed, Hooch told Harry that because he’d snitched Heather – that is, fouled her while she was tailing the snitch – he would be sitting out for 5 minutes while Heather was allowed to search without his interference.  Harry determined he’d stop stalling as soon as he was let back into the game.  They were ahead now a hundred and thirty points, and he felt that was enough of a lead.  Besides, if he kept delaying someone else was liable to get really hurt, as the players were worn and their reflexes no longer at their best.

 

Flint and Urquhart had something sinister in mind, Harry realized, when they teamed up to fly on either side of Heather when she was somewhat distracted, and hedged her in as she tried to outpace them only to ram into the side of the Ravenclaw stands, hitting the decorative drapes over the wooden framework and tumbling down toward the ground.  Hooch saved her from serious injury with a spell to slow her descent, but both chasers were put on penalty, forcing Miles Bletchley to return to the goal posts so Montague could play chaser once more.

 

Cedric resumed play for Heather, while she was taken to the hospital wing.  Harry scowled, at no one in particular; he wasn’t Flint’s biggest fan just then.  Sure, Heather was a rival, but she hadn’t done anything to deserve _that_.

 

Harry took to the air when his penalty was over, and began searching again in earnest.  He took deep breaths to calm himself, and kept on high alert, startled when he actually spotted his target almost right away.  He hadn’t gained much altitude yet, so he was in a good position to see the snitch hovering just under one of the stands.  He glanced towards Cedric, but that was a mistake, for the older boy caught his eye and he followed his gaze to the snitch.  Harry turned ahead and put on speed, determined to end the game.

 

Cedric had the speed advantage of a controlled dive, and it looked like he was going to beat Harry to the snitch, which was actually moving up towards him. “…Pucey scores, Slytherin now leads by a hundred and sixty points…!”  Harry heard Jordan announce, and Cedric hesitated, knowing now that catching the snitch would not earn his team the victory they wanted.

 

But that was a mistake.  That moment allowed Harry to catch up.  When Cedric saw him, he turned his broom to block Harry’s path.  Harry gasped, and dropped to his right, letting his weight carry him to the underside of his broom, narrowly missing the Hufflepuff seeker.  When Cedric realized he hadn’t blocked Harry, he instead reached out and swatted the snitch down toward the ground.

 

Harry released hold of his broom entirely and grabbed the snitch a moment before he hit the grass, rolling repeatedly with the object held firmly in both fists.  When he stood up, holding the golden ball high, the entire stadium erupted, many into cheers, but most the stadium, it seemed, jeered and booed Slytherin’s victory, and their massive lead.  It was looking nearly impossible now for Ravenclaw to take the cup from them, and Harry hoped this would make up for all the house points he and Draco had lost to Snape over Norbert.

 

Still, his victory was just a little bit sour, when he thought about how he’d stalled Heather, and what Flint had done in retaliation.  Harry had reacted without thinking, and he didn’t really like how it felt.  But thoughts of Heather fled from Harry’s mind as his teammates descended on him, congratulating him in awed tones.  Bletchley slapped Harry’s back as Terrence proclaimed loudly that he’d never seen a maneuver quite as impressive as the one Harry had just pulled.

 

Harry retrieved his broom, and was brushing bits of dirt and grass from his uniform, hair, and glasses, when Draco caught up to the team as they were leaving the field, already working themselves up for the planned victory party.  “Harry!  It’s not broken is it?”

 

“What?” Harry drew himself up short.

 

“Your broom, I saw you tumble, and you lost hold of your broom when you landed on the pitch.”

 

Harry gave his best friend an incredulous look, “I’m fine Draco, thanks for asking.”  He intoned after a moment, and resumed walking back toward the dungeons.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, you’re okay?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“And… your broom?”

 

“Oh shove off, it’s fine too.”  Harry growled, though with some humor in his eyes.

 

He attended the after game party, as usual, but he was more subdued, despite now being more popular than ever with his fellow Slytherins.

 

With the quidditch season over for the year (at least for Slytherin and Hufflepuff), Harry felt like he could finally relax, and spend more time with Draco.  It also gave him more time to study for exams, which were less than a month away now.  His house mates were friendly to them once again, and it was no longer such a chore to get books borrowed from the library.  The only thing that marred Harry’s mood in the days that followed was thinking of Hufflepuff’s reserve seeker, Heather Bennett.

 

Early in the next week, he resolved to talk to her, and see if she was okay.  She’d already been released from the hospital wing, and it became tricky to find a chance for them to speak.  He got his opportunity on a Thursday afternoon when she was emerging from the library from her own studying.

 

“Hello, Heather.” Harry said, having come alone so Draco wouldn’t interfere or tease him yet again.

 

She gave him an acidic look, and continued walking without speaking to him, but Harry wasn’t ready to give up.  “I understand you’re angry with me, and I came to apologize.” He said, matching his stride to hers.  She was only a little taller than him, despite being a few years ahead.

 

“I have nothing to say to you, Potter.” She muttered, continuing to walk briskly.  “I know half the school thinks you’re the greatest thing since magic beans, but…”

 

“I feel really badly, about what happened.”  He interrupted, “I wish I could take back what I did to you, and I wish I could have stopped my teammates too.  None of that was my idea, I acted without thinking, but my teammates are just bullies, most of them.”

 

She paused and looked at him, tilting her head to one side, then finally stopped walking and turned to face him.  “I’ve been snooty.” She admitted, “And I’m sorry for that too.  Your apology is accepted.”

 

Harry brightened a bit, and she shook her head, smiling a little, “You know, you’re not like most Slytherins.  I’m so used to them being nasty that I guess I just assumed you were too.”

 

“My parents were in Gryffindor.” Harry blurted, by way of explanation, though he had no idea if it really explained anything.

 

“It shows.” She told him.  “Apologizing like this takes courage.  If you feel very strongly that your team was in the wrong, you should tell them as much; that would take courage too.”

 

“I may do that.” Harry agreed, though he wasn’t sure he was all _that_ brave.  Still her words struck something inside him, and he knew she was right.

 

“I should be going.” She added when the moment stretched, and Harry nodded.  She walked off, continuing to her next class, or wherever it was she was heading.

 

When he got back to the Slytherin wing, Draco was cross referencing his transfiguration notes with Harry’s.  The blonde wizard guessed immediately that something interesting had happened, and managed to wheedle the story out of Harry.

 

“You… apologized?” He asked; a little shocked at the idea.  “What for?!  Strategic fouling is pretty normal in quidditch…”

 

“Maybe, but I still hadn’t meant to do it, and I know Flint only did what he did because she made her penalty shot, and I was benched.  And that was a little extreme, even for a ‘strategic’ foul.”

 

“Maybe…” Draco thought about it, but then sighed, “No, you’re right… as usual.  I guess the team can be a little extreme, it’s a little rough out there.  So, are you going to tell them off for it?”

 

“What?! I uh… I don’t know.” Harry admitted, wondering if he had the nerve to approach Flint and tell him what he thought of his tactics.  “I’ll think about it, but I’m not going to do it right away.”

 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.  It’s not like he’s going to change just because you don’t like it, and he might do something like kick you off the team, even if you are the best seeker Slytherin’s ever had.”

 

“I don’t know about _that._ ” Harry protested, “I’m sure there’ve been more talented seekers than me.”

 

“Not first years, and not in the last eleven decades, I looked it up back around Halloween, it’s been a hundred and twelve years since a first year made a quidditch team at Hogwarts.”

 

“That’s a… really long time…” Harry admitted.

 

“So, what’s this you put here in your notes?” Draco asked, referencing Harry’s papers in front of him, and they were soon deep into conversation about techniques for transfiguring match boxes.

 

The next day Harry actually had some free time, and since it was the start of the weekend, he decided to spend most of the afternoon practicing on his broom.

 

He couldn’t use the quidditch pitch – Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were still training rigorously – but he was allowed to fly up to the edge of the forest, and weave in and out of the towers and parapets along the top of the castle.  It was a very nice day, and he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

 

After flying for the better part of an hour he landed on the battlements just outside the owlery.  Draco was due to join him soon, and take a turn on his Wind Chaser himself, but for the moment Harry just watched the people below coming and going, and in the distance he could even make out Gryffindor practicing out on the quidditch pitch.  Their red and gold quidditch robes were distinctive and he noted that they’d divided their team in two, and were basically practicing maneuvers against each other.

 

He wasn’t close enough to glean any real information, but it was kind of pleasant to watch the two seven man teams move back and forth across the field, looking like little more than fourteen crimson bees buzzing around each other.

 

Harry sat up as he heard the door behind him open and smiled as Draco emerged, carrying some books.  “I’ve got my Potions notes.  You want to review them while I fly around a bit?”  Draco asked.

 

“Sure!”  And he relinquished his broom to his best friend for a time while he looked them over.

 

* * * * *

 

It was the last week before exams, and Harry had forgotten all about the detention he and Draco still had to serve; until they received a pair of identical letters Tuesday morning.

 

Report to Mr. Filch at 11 o’clock sharp this evening in the entrance hall.

Professor S. Snape

 

“Suppose it _was_ too much to hope Snape would have just forgotten about our detentions…” Draco muttered, but shrugged.  “Guess we’d better get it over with though, and don’t bring it up with the other Slytherins, no sense reminding them.”

 

Harry attended all his classes with a knot of dread forming in his stomach, and an ache forming in his head just behind his scar.  Something bad was coming, but he didn’t understand why he knew, or how he could explain it to anyone.  He just knew that tonight was going to be something more than a mere detention.

 

Draco saw no point in dragging their feet so they arrived at the entrance hall a little before eleven.  Filch found them only a moment later, and informed them they were waiting for one other student to join them.  They spent the next few minutes speculating quietly while trying to ignore Filch, who was describing in detail some of the ‘old punishments’ the school had let die out.

 

Their companion for their detentions turned out to be a second year Ravenclaw student named Marcus Belby, who apparently had been hazing first year students particularly viciously.  He’d even managed to get on Crabbe and Goyle’s bad side, as Harry recalled them coming to Draco for ideas on how to get back at him.

 

They exited the castle, and started in the familiar direction of Hagrid’s hut.  Harry brightened when he realized Hagrid might be administering their detention.  Soon, Filch was gone, and Hagrid started to explain they were headed into the dark woods tonight for their detentions.

 

“We should be copying lines or something, not going off into the forest.”  Draco grumbled.

 

“It’s ben decided a’ready.” Hagrid told them sternly, “Ye’ll do summat useful if yer want ter stay at Hogwarts.”

 

“My father would never allow–“

 

“He’d tel yer that that’s how it is at Hogwarts.” Hagrid insisted, already in a bad mood.

 

“But we can’t go in the forest.” Marcus spoke up, “It’s… well it’s forbidden.”

 

“I’ve told them a’ready, there’s nothin’ ‘at lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me er Fang.” Hagrid glared at the three of them until they subsided, then continued, “Now listen up, cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do ternight.  Don’t want no one takin’ risks.”  Harry felt that last part might have been mostly for his benefit, but Hagrid didn’t single him out.

 

“Right then.  Follow me o’er here a moment.”  Hagrid picked up a heavy crossbow which had been leaning against his door frame, and held his lamp high as he led them to the edge of the trees where little spatters of something metallic puddled on the ground.  “Look there,” he told them, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground?  Silvery stuff?  That’s unicorn blood.  There’s a unicorn in there ben hurt badly by summat.  This is the second time in a week.  I found one dead last Wednesday.  We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing.  We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

 

Malfoy started to say something, but Harry shook his head, and he changed his mind.  Both the other boys looked more than a little nervous, but Harry hoped his show of determination and calm would help them keep their heads.

 

Marcus Belby spoke up, however, “But what would hurt a unicorn?  It’d have to be something really evil.  What if it’s still in there, what if it finds us?”

 

“That’s why we keep ter the path.” Hagrid informed them, “An’ why we’re gonna split inter two parties at the first fork, an’ follow the trail in differ’nt directions.  There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve ben staggerin’ aroun’ since last night at least.”

 

“Now,” Hagrid looked them over, and made a decision.  “Right, I’ll take Marcus.  ‘Arry, Draco, you go with Fang, and keep yerselves out of trouble yeh hear?  Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right?  Get yer wands out an’ practice now.”

 

They all did as instructed, finding the charm was easy enough, even for the first years.  “That’s it.  An’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh – so be careful – let’s go.”

 

The darkness of the forest was oppressive at first, since Hagrid had left his lamp at the hut.  But soon their eyes grew more accustomed to the starlight, which lit up the silvery-blue blood of the unicorn along the path ahead where it filtered down through gaps in the trees.  They came to a fork, and Harry and Draco were sent along the right hand path, where they proceeded cautiously and nervously, but with a determination Harry hoped wouldn’t just get them killed.

 

“I knew tonight was going to be something terrible.” Harry whispered after they’d continued a ways.  He paused when he thought he’d heard voices, but after a moment whatever sound he’d caught faded with a subtle shift of the wind.  The forest wasn’t easy on their nerves as they progressed further.  Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he had to start talking softly to keep Draco from jumping at every sound.

 

“They wouldn’t send us in here if they didn’t think there was a good chance we’d be coming back.  Fang might not be much help, but we’ve been practicing those dueling spells you taught me, remember?  We should be able to…”  There was a sound nearby, like cloth being dragged over the leaves, though no boot steps accompanied it.

 

“Come on…”  Harry dragged Draco by the sleeve towards the sound, his wand at the ready, not giving himself a chance to think too hard about what it was he was doing.  They caught a glimpse of a dark figure, hooded and cloaked slithering along the ground, following the path of the unicorn blood.  They crept closer, keeping quiet, but also maintaining a healthy distance.

 

Harry was just about to send off some red sparks from his wand when he spotted a clearing up ahead, particularly noticeable since the moon had risen somewhere beyond the trees, highlighting something white at the far edge of the open space.

 

“What’s that?” Harry hissed under his breath.

 

“I think… that’s… the unicorn.” Draco whispered, his voice trembling as the hooded figure approached the creature and bent over its neck.

 

They stood, transfixed, until Fang started up a low growling, drawing the cloaked thing’s attention.  It rose to its feet, silver blood dripping down its front as it began to approach them ominously.  Draco raised his wand, his hand shaking only a little as he pointed it at the creature.  Harry cried out as pain like he’d never felt before burned through his body, centered on the scar on his forehead.

 

“Harry Potter!”  A voice came from under the creature’s hood.  “We meet at last.”  The voice was a sibilant hiss which reminded Harry of snakes talking.  “And young Malfoy, it’s good to see you here too…”

 

Harry stumbled backward, gritting his teeth as the sound of hooves pounded the path behind them, and a large form leapt over him and Draco to charge the hooded figure.  Harry closed his eyes until the pain in his head passed.  When he opened them again the cloaked thing was gone, and in its place was a… he realized it must be a centaur, with a very humanoid upper torso and a lower body very much resembling a palomino horse.

 

He offered a hand to Harry, and helped him to his feet.  Draco came forward from where he’d stumbled, and regarded both of them and the place where the shadowy creature had been with wide eyes.

 

“Are you all right?” the centaur asked.

 

“Yes – I think so… Who, who was that?” Harry asked, shivering a little at the memory of the thing, and the serpentine voice.

 

“And what about you?” the centaur turned to Draco, ignoring Harry’s question, for the moment.

 

“I’m… I think… yes, I think I’m all right.” Draco was shaken, but apparently unharmed.  “We should send up sparks.  Did you see where my wand went, Harry?”

 

“No, sorry.” Harry replied, as the centaur regarded them, while Draco searched the ground.

 

“You are the Potter boy,” the centaur said at last, his blue eyes fixed on Harry’s scar.  “You had better get back to Hagrid.  The forest is not safe at this time – especially for you.  My name is Firenze.” He greeted them, bowing slightly at the waist.

 

“Why especially for me?” Harry asked, and noticed Draco sending up red sparks from his wand to summon Hagrid.

 

Firenze did not answer at first, and Harry thought he wasn’t going to, but finally he said, “Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

 

Harry blinked at the question, but recovered quickly, “Yes.” He said after a moment, “Unicorn blood is an ingredient in the rudimentary haemonculus potion…”  He remembered something of that nature from the book he’d received at Christmas.  “But what does that have to do with…?”

 

“That is not its only use.” Firenze appeared startled; perhaps he hadn’t expected Harry to have such a ready answer.  “Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. One must slay something pure and defenseless to gain such a prize, and only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a monstrous crime, for the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life.”

 

“Who would be that desperate?” Draco wondered aloud, cutting into their conversation.

 

Firenze turned to him, “Can you think of no one?  Do you know what is hidden at the school at this very moment?”

 

“The philosopher’s stone!” they said in unison.  Then Harry continued, “It doesn’t have to survive cursed forever, it only has to survive long enough to steal the stone!”

 

“You are surprisingly astute, young Potter.  Yes, can you think of someone who has waited many years to return to power; who has clung to life awaiting their chance?”

 

Harry felt a chill grip him, and he heard Draco’s reply only distantly.  “You mean, You-Know-Who?”

 

Harry’s heart was heavy as the ramifications of the Firenze’s revelation hit him all at once.  He remembered his conversation with Hagrid in the Leaky Cauldron almost a year ago: _“Some say he died.  Codswallop, in my opinion.  Dunno if he had enough human left in him ter die.”_

 

“Why… how…”  Harry gasped, the pain in his scar returning, “Is that why?”  He thought about the times his scar had burned in the past, he wondered if every time it had had something to do with Voldemort.  Was Snape secretly serving the dark lord, is that why his scar sometimes burned when he met his gaze?

 

“I’m sorry if this has come as a shock.” Firenze steadied Harry with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“No, it’s… I needed to know.”

 

Draco came close, watching him with a concerned expression.  “What do we do?”

 

But Harry didn’t have a chance to answer, the sound of galloping hooves the along forest floor became audible, and drew closer, until two more centaurs rounded a bend in the path and came into view.  Harry wasn’t really aware that they’d moved at all, but Firenze had apparently drawn them away from the clearing a short distance.

 

“Firenze, what are you doing?”  One of the centaurs said.

 

“Do you realize who this is?” Firenze turned to greet the newcomers.  “This is the Potter boy.”

 

“What have you been telling him?” the new centaur growled, inching closer.  “Remember Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens.  Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

 

The third centaur pawed the ground as he spoke up for the first time, “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.”

 

The larger of the two centaurs turned towards him, kicking out his rear legs in his agitation, “For the best!  What is that to do with us?  Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold!”

 

“Did you not see that unicorn?” Firenze asked his fellows.  “Do you not understand why it was killed?  I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane; yes, with humans alongside if I must.”  They both looked taken aback, but they didn’t back down, particularly Bane.  “The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs.” Firenze continued.

 

They glared at one another for a moment, fidgeting as they each waited for the others to back down first, then the sound of heavy boots approaching reached them, and they turned up the path in time to see Hagrid come into view through the trees, along with Marcus Belby and Fang, whom Harry suddenly realized he hadn’t seen since the cloaked figure had approached them.

 

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze turned back to him and Draco.  “You are safe now.  Good luck, Harry Potter.”  He turned and cantered back into the forest, and shortly the other centaurs followed.

 

Hagrid checked the unmoving form of the unicorn solemnly.  Then, with tears in his eyes, he led them back to the castle, sending them down to their rooms.  None of them spoke more than a few words throughout the trek.

 

Harry barely contained himself until they were back in the Slytherin common room, where he could talk to Draco about all they’d learned.  “You think he’s coming back to finish the job?  Is that why he attacked us in the forest?”

 

“Just calm down, and think about this.” Draco urged as Harry paced, “He didn’t attack us, he greeted us; maybe he thinks we could be useful to him.”

 

“He killed my parents, Draco!” Harry hissed, anger boiling up inside him.

 

“I know.” Draco worried his lip between his teeth then added, “But, he doesn’t care about that sort of thing.  From everything my father has told me about You-Know-Who, he was pretty ruthless.  He might expect you to be the same; you _are_ a Slytherin.”

 

“We can’t let him have the stone, I’ve heard about what it was like when Voldemort was alive.”

 

“Don’t say the name…” Draco hissed.

 

“We have to stop him.  We have to find out when he’s sneaking into the castle next.  There’s got to be a way to find out.”

 

Draco was thoughtful for a long moment, “Well… I’ve heard it said that the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared was Dumbledore.  So – if it were me – I’d wait until Dumbledore was out of the way somewhere; maybe create a diversion.  We can also try to keep an eye on Fluffy, and look for any other clues.”

 

“What if we steal it first?” Harry wondered.

 

Draco blinked several times, “We’d have to learn about the things guarding the stone.  We might not have much luck at that.”

 

“Maybe we can trick Hagrid into…   _Norbert!_ ”

 

“What?  What’s in your head?” Draco looked thoughtfully at the sudden expression of realization on Harry’s face.

 

“Don’t you see?  We have to talk to Hagrid at once.”

 

“Not in the middle of the night, we’ll lose more points if we rush out there right now, Hagrid’s gone to bed, I’m sure.”

 

“First thing in the morning.  Think about it.  Hagrid’s using Fluffy to guard the stone, he’s probably the only one who knows how to get past that thing.  But what is it Hagrid wants more than anything in the world?  And isn’t it odd that someone just happens to show up with a dragon egg for him when we know Voldemort is trying to steal the stone that Fluffy is guarding?”

 

“Stop saying the name!” Draco frowned then added, “Do you think it was Him that Snape stopped on Halloween?”

 

“I don’t know.  Maybe Snape’s working for Voldemort, maybe he really did try to steal the stone on his behalf.”

 

“Would you stop?!”  Draco glared at Harry a moment until he looked down, “Ask him.”

 

“What?!”  Harry was taken aback.

 

“Ask Snape, or let me ask Snape.  Use the soothstone, Snape’s on our side, you’ll see…”

 

Harry couldn’t find much fault with Draco’s idea, except that if he were wrong, it could get them in a lot of trouble to reveal to Snape that they knew about the stone too.  But if they could figure out a clever way to ask…

 

Now they had two new tasks to keep them occupied, but they weren’t going to get anything more done tonight.

 

“Let’s go to bed, we’ll figure the rest of this out in the morning.”  Harry suggested.

 

* * * * *

 

Unfortunately, Hagrid was gone when they went to see him the next morning.  They still had a week left before exams began, and Harry was pretty sure that Voldemort hadn’t yet stolen the stone.  For one, Fluffy had still been behind the locked door when they checked.  And for another thing, he felt certain they would have heard if the dark lord had returned to power.

 

There was a frustration, however, as Harry and Draco realized they had no idea where Dumbledore’s office was, nor how to determine if he was gone from the school or merely absent from a meal.  The only way they could think of was to ask one of the teachers, and they weren’t yet ready to directly involve someone outside their little circle.

 

Harry _did_ enlist the twins who always seemed to know what was going on at the school.  They assured Harry that they’d let him know the moment Dumbledore left the castle, though they flatly refused to explain how they would know.  Draco, meanwhile, was busy figuring out a way of determining Snape’s true loyalties without revealing their interest in the stone.

 

They finally managed a visit to Hagrid a few days later, and sat drinking tea while Harry considered how he’d phrase his questions.

 

“I’ve been wondering, Hagrid.” He began, “Who it was you won that dragon egg off of?”

 

“I tol’ yer, some feller down at the pub in Hogsmead.”  He reminded them.

 

“Yes, you said that, but do you know him?  What did he look like?”

 

“Oh, I only met him that night.  He was a thin fella’ in a cloak, but ‘e kept his hood up.  Lots’o folk like ter keep ter themselves a bit aroun’ pubs, not that I’d expect ya ter know much about that.”

 

“What did you talk about?” Harry continued, and Draco watched, letting Harry work around to the real question.

 

“He wanted to make sure I could take care of tha egg o’ course, so I told ‘im, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy.”

 

“Did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

 

“O’ course he was interested in Fluffy.  It’s not ever’day you meet a three-‘eaded dog, even if yer in the business.”  Harry had heard enough, it seemed safe to say that Voldemort knew how to get past Fluffy, so what was he waiting for then?  Was it just as Draco had thought; that he was waiting for Dumbledore to be gone from the school?

 

“I bet if they’d let you keep Norbert, you could have handled him just fine.  You did a great job with Fluffy, afterall, he’s stopped people from stealing the stone all by himself hasn’t he?”

 

Draco chimed in quickly when he heard his cue, “Oh, not by _himself_ , Harry.” He drawled lazily, “Afterall, he’s not the _only_ thing guarding the stone.”

 

“I don’ know how you two keep findin’ out ‘bout all this stuff, but you really shouldn’ poke around in it.”

 

“Oh, we’re not poking, just learning.  That _is_ what we’re here for, right Harry?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a big mystery, and we can’t just leave it alone until we solve it.  It’d drive us mad if we didn’t figure it out.  Doesn’t mean we’re going to _do_ anything about it, right Draco?”

 

“Yeah, though we’re having a bit of trouble with some of it.”

 

“Wha’ sorta trouble?” Hagrid looked a bit confused.

 

“Well the other things guarding the stone, we’ve been trying to identify some of them.”  Harry explained, “There was the plant, it’s hard to say for sure, but I think we’ve narrowed it down to either devil’s snare or… what was the other one, Draco?”

 

“I keep thinking we learned about it in class sometime…” Draco mused, tapping his chin.

 

“Err, devil’s snare sounds about right, think I ‘eard Pomona call it that.” Hagrid told them, “But it don’ matter ter you, is tha mystery solved now?  Yer gonna leave it alone?”

 

“Devil’s snare, I knew I’d heard about it.” Harry beamed, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Draco.  They also knew now for certain that Sprout was involved, and the men they’d heard in the library were onto her.

 

“Yeah that’s some nasty stuff; pretty tricky.” Draco said after a moment.  “Though not as tricky as McGonnagal’s spell.”  Harry hoped guessing her would prove a good bet, and they both let Hagrid think it over.

 

“Dunno exactly how McGonnagal’s spell works, but you can bet it’s somethin’ clever too.” Hagrid agreed, and both Harry and Draco tried not to let their disappointment show as they wracked their brains to think of another way of leading the conversation.

 

Harry decided on another guess and spoke up, “Snape’s has to be the most brilliant defense, don’t you agree?”

 

“Ah, I knew he’d do summat with potions, but I’ll be darned if I knew ‘e was a riddler too.  But don’ even ask me about Dumbledore’s spell, an’ don’ go tryin’ ter figure it out neither.  It’ll take a cleverer witch or wizard than anyone here ter get past one o’ Dumbledore’s brilliant schemes.  Snape’s clever, Flitwick is tricky too, but they’re no Dumbledore.”

 

Harry fought hard to keep his grin from his face.  If only Hagrid knew how much he’d just told them, but it wouldn’t do to act too surprised.  “I didn’t think we’d figure _that_ one out, did you Draco?”

 

“Never.” Draco agreed.

 

They changed the subject, before Hagrid could get suspicious, but as soon as they were alone, Draco turned on Harry.

 

“You see?  Snape _is_ protecting the stone, he wouldn’t be doing that if he had any intention of stealing it.”

 

“We’ll see.” Harry now just had to think of a way to ask Snape – without asking him – when he had his soothstone at hand.  Fooling Snape was going to be an entirely different challenge than getting information out of Hagrid.

 

Unfortunately, they hadn’t figured out a plan before exams the following week, and then they didn’t have much time for speculation or mysteries.  The days were growing increasingly warm, and their written exams were held indoors in rooms seemingly hot enough to boil the sweat off Harry’s brow as he worked at his tests.  He wrote furiously with a special quill spelled with an anti-cheating charm.  Potions was first, then Herbology, and in Charms they had ‘practical exams’ which meant less writing, and more actual spell work.

 

Defense against the Dark Arts was interesting, though not very practical, as they wrote essays about the best ways to ward off vampires.  While History of Magic was long, and exceedingly dull, as they tried to remember the names and dates for historic events such as the goblin rebellions.

 

Their last final exam was in Transfiguration, where they got to turn mice into snuff boxes.  Then – finally – they were off.  They wanted to spend the rest of the day relaxing away from the heat, but there was still too much on their minds.

 

“Hey Harry.” It was either Fred or George Weasley, who’d found him and Draco sitting in the shade of a large tree outside the castle.  “Thought you’d want to know, Dumbledore isn’t in the castle.  You asked us to keep an eye on him, right?”

 

“What?  Where’d he go?” They had Harry’s full attention now.

 

“Dunno, but he left on broomstick after getting a letter just now.  You going to tell us why it’s so important to keep track of him?”

 

Harry hadn’t told the twins about Voldemort yet, and he wasn’t sure he was going to either.  They were privy to nearly all of the rest of their mystery, but if they knew, they’d no doubt insist on coming along, and Harry couldn’t put his friends in danger like that.

 

“We know he’s keeping an eye on the dog, it’s because of him that it’s here.” Harry began, sorting out in his mind how much he could tell them.

 

“So the best time to do some snooping is when he’s not around.  I getcha!” The twin said, “Though some things are too big, even for us.  It’s all well and good to snoop, but just promise us you’ll stay away from the three-headed dog.”

 

“I will, I promise.” Harry lied, glad that the twins didn’t have his soothstone.  He then made them promise to inform him if Dumbledore returned.

 

“Well that does it.” Harry told Draco once they were alone again.  “We’re out of time.  We have to ask Snape now, or never.  Either way, I’m going through that trap door tonight.”

 

“You’re what?  But you just promised!”

 

“I lied, and I wish I hadn’t, but I’m not letting them come with me, I have to go, and face Voldemort.” Harry ignored Draco’s gasp and protest, “But I’m not letting my friends take that risk.”

 

“You’re not leaving _me_ behind!” Draco hissed, “And if you even think about trying to talk me out of it, I’ll jinx you, and then neither of us will be going.”

 

Harry stared at his friend, but decided he believed the threat was genuine.  Draco knew some nasty jinxes too.  “Fine!  But first, Snape.  Have you worked out a way to ask him yet?”

 

“I’m not sure, I’d thought about doing something like we did with Hagrid, and pretending like I knew more than I actually do.”

 

“Not sure how well that would work on Snape…”

 

They plotted for the rest of the afternoon, before going off to face Snape.  Draco wouldn’t go by himself, guessing correctly that Harry might try to leave him behind to go through the trap door if he left him alone.

 

Harry gave Draco the soothstone, and hid himself under his invisibility cloak so Draco would know he was there, but Snape wouldn’t.  He wanted to hear the conversation, but they both agreed Snape would likely be more open if he _thought_ Draco had come alone.

 

They found him in his office, and Draco made sure to hold the door open for a little longer than normally necessary so Harry could slip inside.

 

“What is it you wish to speak with me about?” Snape asked in a tone Harry had never heard from him before.  It took him a moment to place exactly what was different.  He realized, there was genuine fondness in his voice.

 

“I’ve heard something… unsettling.”  Draco began, putting his acting skills to the test, “One of the other students was talking about You-Know-Who.  They say he might be coming back, and they talked about which teachers at the school might support him if he returned.  Or might even be trying to help him return.”

 

“Let me guess, they suggested I might be one of those foolish enough to entertain such notions?”  A little of Snape’s customary sarcasm filtered back into his voice.

 

“Actually… I thought, if anyone would know anything about the teacher’s true loyalties, it’d be you.  If you knew something about it, you’d tell me right?”

 

“Not necessarily.” Snape leaned back in his chair as Draco took a seat in front of the desk.  “Such things should not concern you right now.  Perhaps when you are older you will be privy to such burdens.”

 

Harry held back a sigh, wondering if maybe this was going to be a waste of time.  “However, I can assure you that no one at this school is helping the Dark Lord’s return, and there are none here who would welcome it.  I think it is best if you put such things from your mind.  Should the Dark Lord return, there will be time enough then to consider what it means to you personally, Draco.”

 

Draco chatted a little longer, asking a couple more questions, but Snape was not one to waste words.  Eventually Draco got up to leave, and Harry followed him out the door.  As they’d planned, Draco hurried to the nearest empty class room.  Once they were both inside Harry dropped his cloak, “Was he lying?”

 

“Nope, everything he said was true.” Draco smiled, happy that Harry’s fears had been proven incorrect.  “But I’ll bet you anything You-Know-Who is going to try another break-in tonight, after curfew.  We know there are spells and things guarding the stone, and Hagrid said something about a riddle.  It’s not much to go on, but it’s all we’ve got, so let’s spend the rest of the evening getting ready, any way we can.”

 

They did just that.  First they ‘borrowed’ a book of riddles from the library – under the invisibility cloak – in order to get some practice in, and then looked up anything else they thought might be useful.  They did some general research too, but they really didn’t have much else to work with, and soon it was time for dinner.

 

Neither of them really tasted their food, and the wait for the last of the Slytherin students to vacate the common room was nerve wracking.  They both wondered if they’d be too late to get to the stone before Voldemort.  Finally they were alone, and they set out together under cover of Harry’s cloak.  The halls were quiet, almost eerily so.   Shortly before they arrived at the locked door in the forbidden corridor on the third floor, they heard Peeve’s distant chatter coming their way.  Only once they arrived, they found that the door wasn’t locked at all, and was – in fact – sitting slightly ajar.

 

“Why’s the door open?” Draco wondered.

 

“ _He_ must already be here.”  Harry whispered, creeping closer then pausing on the threshold of the doorway.  “Draco… do you hear… music?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very interesting chapter to write. Sorry for the cliffhanger ending there, I honestly could not resist. Anyways, I had a lot of fun fleshing out parts of this chapter, while other parts were tricky, or even just frustrating to write. It also underwent a lot of changes before this version, including gaining the quidditch match from the previous chapter along the lines somewhere.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think. We’re almost done here, at least for Harry’s first year. Cheers!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	10. Chapter 9 – The Mirror, the Traitor, and the Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco descend into the deepest dungeons in Hogwarts, and face the greatest trials of their young lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts, atmosphere, and mild violence. No cussing, no adult situations.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

Harry and Draco shared a glance as they listened briefly to the music drifting through the partially open doorway before entering the room.  They saw the terrifying beast fast asleep just past the trap door.  The music came from a harp set on the floor close by, that seemed to be enchanted to continue playing on its own.  Fluffy’s breath wheezed in and out of all three heads with a great harmonic snore.

 

“I don’t know how long that spell will last, or if it will affect us if we linger.  We’d better get down the trap door.” Harry whispered.  They walked together across the room to where the dog lay just beyond the door itself.  They eyed it warily as they inched closer, slowing the nearer they got.  Harry was feeling less and less certain of their plan as they approached, but he took a deep breath, and bent to pull the heavy wooden door open by the iron ring set into the wood.  He flinched when the hinges creaked, and the three-headed dog shifted, but it did not wake.  “What do you suppose is down there?  How far down does it go?” He wondered aloud, his whispers barely audible above Fluffy’s snoring.

 

“I don’t know, anything we can drop to see how…?”  Draco trailed off when the harp suddenly grew quiet, and the dog began to stir.  “Uh oh.”  It shifted again, and licked its chops, and one eye closest to them opened, then blinked blearily.

 

Harry didn’t wait to see what would happen if they lingered, but immediately grabbed Draco and pulled him right to the edge of the hole before jumping down into the dark himself.  He fell, completely blind, and had just enough time to wonder how far he’d fallen already when he landed on something soft, though still with enough force to wind him.  A moment later a second “whump” announced Draco landing a few feet away, and growls and barks from overhead let them know their passage had not gone unnoticed by the guard dog.

 

“What is this stuff?” Draco asked, feeling around himself.

 

They were lying on something springy and soft, but also a little damp, like moss, or vines.  Vines!  Harry’s eyes widened as the realization hit him.  “It’s the devil’s snare, it’s already grabbing us!” he whispered hoarsely.  He remembered their research earlier, and recalled that devil’s snare would crush you more quickly if you struggled, so he fought to calm his racing heart and relax his body.

 

 “Incendio!” Draco cried, setting fire to the plant creepers nearest him.  “Incendio!” he called again, and set more of the plant on fire.  He was able to crawl free, then turned back to help Harry.  “Incendio!” he cast the spell one more time, and the vines loosened their grip on Harry enough for him to climb down off the smoldering remnants of the trap.

 

“That was really quick thinking.” Harry remarked, as he fished his own wand out of his robes so he’d be better prepared next time.

 

“I knew the devil’s snare was coming up, so I was already thinking of that spell when we fell down.” Draco explained.

 

“Do you think its dead?” Harry asked, as they crept a little closer.  “No, don’t.”  Harry pushed Draco’s hand down when he started to aim his wand at the still crawling vines.  “No sense killing it, now that we’re past.  You know how Professor Sprout gets when you mistreat her plants, even the dangerous ones.”

 

“Oh, right.  She’s already going to throw a fit over this, isn’t she?” Draco remarked, nodding, then turning to look around them.  They examined the room, and found a single corridor leading away.

 

“Well, we don’t know as much about the other defenses so we’ve got to be ready for anything.” Harry started down the corridor in front of them, following a faint sound that grew more persistent the further they went.

 

As they drew closer, Harry strained, trying to identify the familiar, but still elusive sound.  “It’s kind of like wings, but there’s a dinging sound in there too, don’t you think?” he said after a moment.

 

“Yeah, it kind of reminds me of a snitch.  Or maybe a whole lot of snitches.” Draco agreed.

 

They came to a brilliantly lit chamber with a high ceiling, filled with fluttering colorful birds swirling in the air above them.  A door stood locked and closed at the far end of the room, and they took a moment to examine everything, and consider what it could mean.

 

“I think, if I rush across, I might be able to make it to the door before the birds can swarm me…”

 

“Uh, Harry.” Draco replied, pulling his sleeve and pointing across the room, where several brooms hovered at mounting height.

 

Harry glanced again at the jeweled birds, before starting off at a sprint toward the brooms.  He was expecting the birds to attack them or something, but nothing happened, and the two of them made it to the brooms without incident.  “They’re awfully quiet.” Draco observed, referring to the birds, then moved to inspect the brooms more closely, obviously looking for imperfections or signs of wear.

 

“Yeah they are, they…” Harry did a double take, as he realized what he was seeing were winged metal objects with actual jewels, not simply colorful creatures.  “Draco, those aren’t birds! They’re keys!” he shouted, “Keys with wings!  One of them must go to that door.” He added, abandoning the brooms to rush to the lock, examining it more closely.  “We should have brought some of Vincent’s matchsticks, shouldn’t we?” he frowned, and looked back up at the keys, “How will we know which one goes to the door?”

 

They puzzled over that for several long moments before Draco grinned, “We’re not going to figure that out from down here.  You’re the youngest seeker in a century, I’ll bet once we’re in the air we’ll be able to spot one that looks a bit different.”  Draco mounted the broom he’d obviously come to favor, and Harry returned to grab one as well.  It wasn’t his Wind Chaser, but it still handled well under his hands as he flew up into the room.  “You think Madam Hooch helped with this one?” he asked.

 

“This sort of thing is mostly charms work; that means Flitwick probably came up with it.” Draco shrugged, and soon they were far too busy to hold any sort of conversation.

 

The keys dodged and spun just out of reach, but Harry wasn’t really trying to catch them, merely find something that caught his eye.  “There!” he shouted after a few minutes searching, “That one has a crumpled wing, like it’s been grabbed and stuffed into a keyhole already!”  The chase was on, both him and Draco flew after the chosen key, the rest of the swarm growing more and more frenzied as the chase intensified.

 

Finally Draco was able to snatch it out of the air after Harry herded it into a corner, and they sailed down to try their key on the door.  The lock clicked, and the key went fluttering away the moment the door opened.  “I don’t know which test is next, but from here on we’re going to have to be that much more clever.” Harry nodded, and they pushed through into the next room.

 

The chamber was pitch black at first, but once they’d both crossed the threshold the room lit up to reveal two tall rows of lifelike statues facing away from them.  They walked in between the first few, and saw matching rows – only white instead of black – on the opposite side.

 

“It’s a chess set!” Draco announced, awe coloring his tone.  He touched the black queen and the stone came to life, its faceless head turning to look down at him.  “I bet we have to play to get across.”  The statue nodded, and Draco frowned, looking across the room to where the door was slightly ajar.  He moved forward as if to see if he could pass, but when the white pawns drew their swords to block the way, he withdrew, “Thought so.” He muttered then asked “Do we have to join your team?” He looked up at the queen.  Again she nodded.

 

“Alright, what piece do you want to play as?” he asked Harry.

 

“Uh, maybe I should leave that decision to you.  You’re way better at chess than me.”

 

“Right.” Draco looked a little sheepish, and stood back off the giant checkered floor to consider his options, and plan his strategy.  “I’ve got an idea; let’s just hope it’ll work.  It’ll all depend on how much skill and experience these pieces have, and…”

 

He paused, and glanced at Harry as another thought occurred to him.  “This could be dangerous, I’ve seen chess pieces really maul each other in regular games, if these are like that, with them being so huge, we’d better be careful not to let ourselves get taken.”

 

“Yeah that’s… really comforting.” Harry said sarcastically, his nerves already starting to fray.

 

“Well, there’s no help for it, I’ll make you the queen.” Draco announced, “And I’ll play a bishop.  If my strategy works, we might just start catching up with You-Know-Who.”

 

The black queen and one of the bishops were already leaving the board to make space for the two of them, and Harry tried hard not to worry as Draco started playing.  “Yep, white always takes the first move.” Draco observed when a white pawn moved forward two spaces.  The black pieces moved wherever Draco instructed, and he was quick, sharp, and didn’t hesitate as he ordered them around. When Draco had one of their pawns capture an enemy pawn to protect himself their worry about the pieces being rough was proven to be accurate.  The white pawn was ruthlessly beaten down and dragged off the board, just as Draco had predicted.  Draco moved him and Harry out early, though Harry was happy to note they always seemed protected by another piece.

 

But Draco wasn’t holding back.  He had Harry capture a pawn right next to the enemy King, putting the piece in check for a turn as it moved away, then when the white queen threatened him, Draco took a knight putting him on nearly a straight diagonal from Harry, leaving them both very exposed, it seemed.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked as the second white knight moved to threaten him.  “You’re watching that knight, right?” he added.

 

“I’ve got this, don’t worry.”  Draco assured him as he moved diagonally straight toward Harry to protect him.

 

“But won’t they sacrifice a knight to…?!”

 

Harry never finished, for Draco grabbed his arm, already in a full sprint.  “Just run!” he cried.  The pieces sprang to action as they abandoned the game, the closest ones trying to intercept them with weapons drawn, but they were able to charge through the unlocked door before the statues could stop them.

 

“What did we just do?” Harry asked as they slammed the door shut.  They paused for a moment, and heard the pieces stop moving on the other side of the door, their magic growing dormant with no opponents to play against.

 

 “Ugh, what is _that_?!” A foul stench assaulted them as soon as they’d entered this room, but they quickly pulled their robes up to cover their faces, though it only marginally masked the scent.

 

The room they found themselves in was spacious, and seemed to have been the living quarters for a very large troll, now lying face down on the stone floor with a nasty lump on its head.  “This must be…”  Harry choked out, as they rushed quickly past the fallen troll, unable to really finish his thought in the face of the horrible smell.  The snoring troll looked almost peaceful.

 

They were quite grateful to make it into the next room, where they found a table set with 7 different bottles in all shapes and sizes.  “What did you do back there?” Harry asked once he’d cleared his head of the retched stench.  “On the chess board, how did we win?”

 

“Oh… well… technically, we cheated.” Draco grinned, “I played us to the far side of the board, and we were able to make it through the door before they realized what we were up to.  Probably wouldn’t have worked if the door hadn’t already been open.”

 

“That was risky.” Harry admonished, then grinned as well, “Brilliant, but risky.”

 

“It worked, didn’t it?”  Draco countered with a wide grin.

 

Once they approached the table, flames sprouted ahead of them and behind them, two different colors of magical fire to bar their paths in either direction.

 

“This must be Snape’s defense; this is going to be really tricky.”  Draco began, examining the potions set out in a row on the table.  He was just looking at them for the moment, while Harry picked up a small roll of parchment, and read what was written on it aloud.

 

“ ‘Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind.  Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.  One among us seven, will let you move ahead.  Another will transport the drinker back instead.  Two among our number hold only nettle wine.  Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore.  To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide.  You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end.  But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; Third as you see clearly, all are different size.  Neither dwarf nor giant, holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and second on the right.  Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.’ ”

 

“What does it mean?”  Harry asked once he’d finished reading.

 

“This one’s nettle wine.”  Draco announced, pointing to the bottle in the center and then re-stoppering it after smelling the contents.  “And so is this one.”  He added, singling out another bottle all the way on the right.

 

“This one’s poisonous.  I’d recognize that smell anywhere.  I got really sick after getting into Severus’ potion kit once when I was five, only had a sip, but I still remember it vividly.” He continued tapping the bottle right next to the last, as an astonished Harry looked on.  “But these four I don’t recognize.” He frowned, as he pointed at the remaining bottles, and paced in front of them.

 

“What’s to stop us – well I don’t know if we could but – what would stop someone from just vanishing the fire or using a detoxification charm on the potions?” Harry asked.

 

“The riddle.” Draco said simply.

 

“No, I mean we could just ignore the riddle, and…”

 

“The riddle makes the magic stronger.” Draco insisted, “I can’t believe you don’t know that.  A lot of magic, particularly old magic, can be made nearly indestructible if you build in an ‘escape clause’.  It was originally a fae technique, I think.”

 

Harry sighed, and scanned the clues again then said, “This one won’t help us move forward, it’s on the end.” He told Draco, referencing the second clue.  “And if it’s not nettle wine it might be poison.”

 

“You said the second left and second right are twins, right?”  Draco asked, and examined the second left potion a bit more closely.  “They look different, but if that one’s poison, this one is too.”  He sniffed it very carefully.  “Oh yep, same stuff!” he held it at arm’s length – his face a little green – then put it back into place.

 

“This one’s the biggest.” Harry observed, after reading the clues once more, pointing to the one at the end Draco had said was nettle wine.  “That means it doesn’t contain death, right?”

 

Draco took the parchment, and read it over carefully, then nodded.  “Which one’s the smallest then?”  Harry gestured to the potion third from the right, and Draco nodded, examining it more closely, “Hey, this one’s been tasted.” He gasped, “Either that or moved, it’s only about half full, and some of the potion is on the sides.”

 

“It can’t be poison either, which means it might be the potion to help us move forwards.”  Harry grinned.

 

“Or it could be the potion to help us move back…” Draco sighed, and looked at the remaining two potions on the far left and third from the left.

 

“Wait.” Harry counted the bottles and named each one they knew, “You said the middle one is nettle wine, the one to the left of it should be poison, right?”

 

“Yeah, you will always find poison on nettle wine’s left side!” Draco agreed, rereading the first clue.  “Then that means this one on the left must help you go back, since it isn’t our friend if we want to move forwards, and this one which has been tasted will get us through the black fire!”

 

“There’s not much left in it.” Harry observed.

 

“No, just enough for one of us, and only because we’re both small.” Draco agreed, picking up the bottle and handing it to Harry.  “You should go, I’ll be right here when you come back, or if you need my help for anything.”

 

“You won’t be able to follow.” Harry took the potion, and regarded his friend.

 

“I know, but I can always run for help if you can’t stop _Him_.  If you can though, try to find a way to stop him without fighting him.  I don’t think you’d win, even if you were ‘lucky’ the first time, and even if you could, it’s just smarter to stay on his good side for now, especially if for some reason you can’t stop him.”

 

“I know… it’s probably best he doesn’t realize how much I hate him.”  Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, and steeled himself for what was to come.  “I think this will be the last room.  Hagrid didn’t mention any more teachers who’d defended the stone, and that room with the troll is already one more than we’d counted on.  Quirrel is supposed to be good with trolls; I bet he set that there to help guard the stone.”

 

“Go to it then.  Do whatever it takes.  If anyone can do it, it’ll be you.  You’re a true born Slytherin, after all.”

 

Harry smiled, drank down the potion – which made him shiver as it spread through him like ice – took a deep steadying breath, and walked into the flames.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry could see nothing but the black fire for a long moment, before emerging into the final chamber.  He must have made some sound of surprise, for the figure ahead of him in the room turned to regard him, smiling under that ridiculous purple turban.  “Quirrel?!” All Harry’s careful plans and research seemed to fly away in that moment, this had to be a trick, maybe the next test, but what on earth did Quirrel have to do with any of this?

 

Quirrel looked startled too, “P-Potter?” he blinked, “I’d been wondering when I’d finally get to confront you without that silly act, but… what are you doing here?”

 

“I thought… I came to find Voldemort; I thought he would be here… What are _you_ doing here?”

 

Quirrel laughed, and it wasn’t his normal nervous laugh either, “Well isn’t this something special?  So you recognized him in the forest, did you?  He thought you might, and thought you’d meet us again very soon, but I didn’t really think I’d see you _here_ , of all places.”

 

Harry took several steps closer, looking around, something was _very_ wrong.

 

“So you’re… helping him?” Harry ventured.  It was the only explanation that made sense, “It was all just an act, a very clever act?!”

 

“Yes, I was quite convincing, wasn’t I?  Only Snape suspected the truth, and if he’d known the whole truth… well, I’m not sure I’d have made it this far.”

 

“Snape… suspected?”  How could that be?  Snape had sworn to them that none of the teachers were involved, and the soothstone had verified it.

 

“Yes, he tried to stop me from getting a look at the protections on Halloween; he wasn’t fooled by my diversion.  You remember that?”

 

“That’s how he got bit!” Harry gasped.

 

“You’re a very clever boy, and apparently quite nosey, as well as unusually discreet.  I had no idea you’d discovered enough to follow me here.  Now, perhaps you could help me figure out this final puzzle.  What do you make of this mirror?”

 

Harry had been so distracted by the unexpected revelation of Quirrel’s previously unknown role in the mystery he hadn’t even noticed the tall oval mirror at the far end of the room.  It was ornate, with a gold frame and two clawed feet.  He came closer, expecting to see his reflection, but gasped when he saw other people in the mirror, not just himself.  He whirled around, but there was no one there.

 

“What do you see?” Quirrel asked, moving to stand beside him.

 

“I see people.” Harry turned back to the mirror, and looked a little closer, spotting an inscription along the top of the mirror: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

 

There was something very familiar about the people in the mirror, standing all around him.  Quirrel rolled his eyes.  “That’s not much help.”

 

“Who are these people, Mr. Potter?”  A new voice spoke, echoing around the chamber in a harsh hiss.  Harry immediately recognized it as belonging to the apparition of Voldemort he’d seen in the forest, he also realized it was the second voice he’d heard whispering in the library before he and Draco had learned about Norbert.

 

Harry glanced around wildly, and Quirrel looked slightly nervous as well.  “Where are you?” Harry called when he could find no sign of the dark lord.

 

“Let me speak to him… face-to-face.”  Voldemort hissed again, the sound seeming to come from Quirrel, though his mouth wasn’t moving.

 

“Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrel protested.

 

“I have strength enough… for this…” the Dark Lord insisted.

 

Harry watched, horrified, as Quirrel unwound the odd smelling turban from his head, and then turned around to face away from Harry.

 

Where the back of his head should have been, was a face with malicious red eyes and pinched nostrils.  “Harry Potter.” He said, grinning slightly, “See what I have become?  Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another’s body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, as you’ve seen, these past weeks… but once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own.  Do you see?”

 

Harry did see.  And he had no idea how he hid the revulsion he felt from showing on his face as he nodded.  His conversation with Lucius Malfoy over the Christmas break came back to him in a rush, and he knew what he must do.  “So tell us again what you see, Quirrel… when you look in the mirror?”  Voldemort continued.

 

“When I look, I see the stone… I’m presenting it to my master.” Quirrel told them, looking back into the mirror as Harry approached again.  Quirrel then turned so that Voldemort could continue watching him.

 

“And you Harry… do you recognize these people who appear to you in the mirror?”

 

Harry looked again, “I don’t know these people, but…” he paused, and examined them one by one more closely, thinking about what he should say.  The two closest to him stood right over his shoulders, one on either side.  The first was a man with glasses, and a nose much like his.  The woman had red hair, and smiled warmly down at him through the mirror, she had…

 

“My eyes, she has my eyes!” Harry realized aloud.

 

“You see your family… interesting.”  Voldemort guessed.

 

“Yes, it’s… my family.” He looked at all the people, some with his eyes, others with his nose, and other familiar features spread between them.  His heart warmed, and he felt a knot in his throat.

 

“Do you think the mirror shows the future?” Quirrel asked, stepping close enough to see himself reflected in the mirror.

 

“Don’t be an idiot…” Voldemort chided his servant, “Potter is the last of his family… it shows him his past… perhaps… let _me_ look this time.”

 

Harry felt a small surge of panic as Quirrel gently brushed him out of the way.  His family was there, in the mirror, but he couldn’t see them now.

 

Quirrel stood and turned to face away from the mirror, as Harry stared longingly at the silver glass.  “I see… myself… returned in all my glory… my enemies dead at my feet, and my…” The Dark Lord trailed off.

 

“I want to see my family again.”  Harry insisted, as he tried to push Quirrel out of the way.  There was a hiss from Quirrel, and a smell like burned flesh.  A flash of pain in his scare momentarily blinded Harry.

 

“What was that?!” Harry groaned.

 

Quirrel backed away from him.  “What did you just do, Potter?!” he screeched, holding his forearm where Harry had touched him.

 

“It’s that spell…” Voldemort cried, “The one his mother cast as she died protecting him.”

 

Harry stared with wide eyes, clenching his teeth as he saw the burns his touch had created on Quirrel’s skin.  He hoped Voldemort could not sense how much he hated him. He was very glad for the distraction of the mirror.  He’d never seen most of his family before, and it was very calming to look at them in the reflection.

 

“I don’t understand!” Quirrel voiced what both he and Harry were thinking.

 

“It was old magic… something I hadn’t counted on.” Voldemort explained, “But no matter, just don’t touch him.”  Harry could get behind that idea, but he still felt incredibly nervous and overwhelmed in the presence of these wizards sharing a body.

 

Harry moved again to the mirror, to look at his family once more, as Voldemort continued.  “You long for family…” It was more a statement than a question, “Just as Quirrel longs to serve his master well… and return to me my body with the stone…  The Mirror seems to show us our longings and desires…”

 

Quirrel started to move in front of the mirror, but stopped before actually touching Harry again.

 

“I don’t understand the trick to this, Master.  How do you protect a stone with a mirror?  Is it _in_ the mirror?  Are we supposed to break it?”

 

“What do you think, Potter?” Voldemort asked. “How would you use such a mirror to protect the stone?”

 

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know.” He admitted, truthfully.  He wanted to see more of his family, but he didn’t want to do it with Voldemort looking over his shoulder.

 

“If you help me, Potter…” Voldemort added, “We could be more powerful than any pair of wizards in history.  Together… we could bring them back…”

 

Harry swallowed, and tears stung his eyes.  He could have his parents back.  If Voldemort could come back to life with the power of the stone and the elixir, so could Harry’s parents.  He knew the truth of Voldemort’s words and they tugged at his heart.  The pain of knowing he could never go along with it was worse than the pain in his forehead when Quirrel had touched him.  But he could at least pretend to help.  It really wasn’t hard to pretend that he wanted it desperately enough to serve the dark lord.

 

“It’s changing!” Harry observed after he’d wiped the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.  “I see myself, using the stone to bring them back!” he gasped, and leaned forward, starting to fall to his knees.

 

Quirrel reached out automatically to catch him, but then withdrew his hand yet again, as both he and Harry cried out from the fierce pain.  “Idiot!” Voldemort shouted, but then a voice drifted to them from the chamber behind.

 

“…In there with him, we thought it’d just be…” The voice belonged to Draco.

 

“It’s _Him_!” Voldemort hissed, “Curse him… he’s not supposed to be back yet!”

 

“We must flee, my lord!” Quirrel gasped, getting to his feet.  Harry didn’t know what was going on, but he was nervous enough that he panicked when Quirrel drew his wand.

 

“Yes… we’re not yet ready to face him.” Voldemort agreed, and Harry reached out.

 

“What about my family?!” he asked, feeling genuine panic at the thought of losing this opportunity.  But when they touched again, pain once more lanced across his head.  He held on this time, though, his desperate hope outweighing all reason in his mind for several long seconds.  But Quirrel managed to pull free, and then he was gone, and Harry’s vision faded around the edges almost to black.

 

“Harry!  Are you alright, Harry?”  Draco shook his shoulders, as he lay there on his back, and gradually Harry returned to himself to see Draco leaning over him, fear and panic on his face, to mirror the fear and panic Harry had felt a moment earlier.

 

Mirror!  Harry pushed himself to his knees, and would have gotten to his feet if his head hadn’t started swimming.

 

“Calm yourself.” A gentle and familiar voice told him, a thin comforting hand gripping his shoulder.

 

“Professor!  Dumbledore, sir.  I thought you’d left!”  Harry gasped when he looked up at the headmaster’s smiling, white-whiskered face with its gold rimmed spectacles.

 

“I had.  But you see; no sooner had I reached London, than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left.  I arrived just in time to see Quirrel depart.”

 

“So he’s gone then.  He didn’t get the stone?”

 

“No, he did not.” Dumbledore assured him.  “Though they were coming dangerously close to unraveling my brilliant defense; with your help of course.”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t actually want to help them, just make him think I wanted to help.”

 

“And your performance was quite commendable.” Dumbledore smiled his bright cheery smile.

 

“But you didn’t see any of it.” Draco protested.

 

“I saw enough, I could tell simply by the way things played out right at the end that they were fooled.”

 

“So if Vol, I mean You-Know-Who, doesn’t have the stone…”

 

“Call him Voldemort, Harry.  Always use the proper name for things.  Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

 

“Yes, sir.”  Harry agreed, then continued, “If Voldemort doesn’t have it, where is it?  What does the mirror have to do with it?”

 

Draco cringed, and Dumbledore smiled, his eyes lit with amusement, “I am glad you asked me about it, for it was one of my more brilliant ideas.  And, between you and me, that is saying something.  For starters, you should know the Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more, and nothing less, than the deepest most desperate desires of our hearts.  You see, only one who wanted to _find_ the stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold, or drinking the Elixir of Life.  My brain surprises even me sometimes.”

 

“So, once I had the idea to use the stone to bring back my parents, I wouldn’t have been able to get it at all.” Harry said to himself.

 

“Perhaps, but I think you also realized that while you might desperately want to see them again, you could never do such a thing to their memory, and never would join Voldemort even to bring them back.”

 

Draco looked very thoughtful, as he approached the mirror and looked into it, then sighed.  “I don’t think I could want to find it but not use it.” He told them.  “All I see is myself, as Minister of Magic, and a powerful wizard, with both my parents watching me proudly.  And when I think about the stone, I see myself using it to make gold.”

 

“Harry might have gained it, but now we may never know.  I believe I will have a chat with my friend Nicolas, and see what is to be done about the stone.”

 

“I have one more question.” Harry said, looking up at Dumbledore, even after he got to his own feet.

 

“Just one, Harry?” The headmaster’s eyes twinkled.

 

“Voldemort mentioned my mother; that she died protecting me.  And I’ve heard also, that something led Voldemort to me, but I don’t understand any of it.  Why would Voldemort come after me when I was so young?”

 

“Alas, that is one question I cannot answer.  Not today.  Not now.  You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry.  When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know.”

 

Harry sighed, Dumbledore was right.  He hated to hear that.  “But…”

 

“No, Harry.  I am sorry.  But there are some truths we are never ready to face, and I would at least wait until you are equipped to handle it.  Ask me again in a few years if you must.”

 

“What happened to Quirrel’s arm?” Draco asked, turning back to face them.  “It looked like his hand had been nearly burned off.”

 

“Oh, yeah.  When I touched him, it burned him, and it hurt me a lot too.” Harry explained.

 

Dumbledore was happy to answer this question, it seemed.  “Your mother died to save you.  If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love.  He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark.”  Harry’s hand went to the mark on his forehead, “Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.  It is in your very skin.  Quirrel, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason.  It was agony for something so evil to touch a person marked by something so good.”

 

Harry thought about that a bit.  It matched what Lucius had told him about Voldemort not understanding such things, and that being his one true weakness.  “If there are no further questions, you two, then I would suggest you allow me to escort you to the hospital wing.  You’ve had a trying time, and even though you seem mostly intact, I’m afraid Madam Pomfrey would never forgive me if I was lax in my responsibility in letting her see to your wellbeing.”

 

They agreed, and left this place deep under the castle.  Harry and Draco were both feeling the effects of their lack of sleep, and all the tests they’d endured, not to mention their confrontations with the various magical defenses in place on the way to the stone.

 

* * * * *

 

There were now only a few days left before the end-of-year feast.  Harry and Draco spent most of the first day in the hospital wing.  The stay was made much easier by the arrival of numerous gifts for Draco’s birthday, while Harry received a few gifts of his own, mostly from Hagrid, and the Weasley twins.  Draco shared some of his candy, and they chatted for most the afternoon.  Fred and George were very cross at being left out of crucial details of their ‘mystery’ and insisted on being filled in, “And leave nothing out!” they chorused.

 

Harry told them everything, except for a few parts about his mother’s death and things that felt a little too personal.

 

While they were in the hospital, Ravenclaw’s quidditch team beat Gryffindor, but the match was a lot closer than most people had expected, which meant Ravenclaw hadn’t gained many more house points, and it looked like Slytherin was going to maintain their lead for the house cup after all, and there hopefully would not be many more opportunities for the other houses to score points enough to catch back up.

 

By the time Monday came around, it seemed everyone at the school knew what had happened in the dungeons between Harry and Quirrel.  That left a lot of mixed feelings, it seemed, for Harry hadn’t explained exactly _why_ he’d done some of what he’d done.  So those who’d hated him now seemed to hate him even more, and those who’d been his friends were that much more friendly and proud of him – though Hagrid had been distraught when he discovered he’d been responsible for helping Voldemort learn how to get past Fluffy – and Harry was still very uncertain of how he felt about the ordeal.

 

When Harry and Draco made it to the great hall that evening, the hall was decked out in green and silver to honor house Slytherin, with a banner depicting a stylized snake spanning the windows behind the high table.  Harry found a pair of seats for him and Draco between Gemma Farley and Pansy Parkinson.

 

They chatted for a while until Dumbledore arrived, and drew the attention of the assembled crowd to his place at the front table.  “Another year gone!  And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast.”

 

He paused very briefly, and smiled his cheerful smile, “What a year this has been!” he continued, “Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…”  There were a few chuckles at this, but Dumbledore didn’t pause, “Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred forty-four points; in third, Gryffindor, with three hundred seventy points; Ravenclaw has four hundred thirty-eight; and Slytherin, four hundred forty-three.”

 

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and Harry cheered right alongside them.  “Yes, yes, well done Slytherin, and well done Ravenclaw, for very nearly overtaking them.”  Dumbledore said once the room had quieted, “There are, however, a few last minutes points I’d like to dish out.”  Any lingering noise was immediately hushed.  “Let me see.  Yes, to Fred and George Weasley, for devilish cunning and unwavering dedication to their _‘arts’_ , I award Gryffindor house ten points each.”  The Gryffindors broke into applause, as the twins stood and thumped each other on the back.

 

“Secondly, to Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe; for a little bit of luck, a small measure of courage, and sincere loyalty, I award Slytherin house, five points each.”  Harry recalled the role Crabbe and Goyle had played in helping them discover Fluffy, and wondered if that was what the points were for.  “To Sidney Fawcett.”  The dark haired witch at the Ravenclaw table looked surprised and astonished, and blushed even before Dumbledore finished his announcement.  “For a sharp mind, and quick hand at solving riddles, I award Ravenclaw house, thirty points.”

 

“We’re ahead of Slytherin!” someone shouted from their table, and everyone cheered Sidney, who still seemed confused as to why she was being awarded points.

 

“To Heather Bennett, for an uncharacteristic wisdom and a kind word of advice, I award Hufflepuff, thirty points.”  It wasn’t enough for Hufflepuff to overtake Gryffindor, but they seemed happy for Heather all the same, and Harry was happy that she received a little extra too.

 

“To Draco Malfoy!” Dumbledore’s voice carried throughout the room, and demanded quiet yet again.  “For a brilliantly clever – and quite unorthodox – chess strategy, I award Slytherin house… forty points.”  Slytherin table cheered once more, and even though Ravenclaw was no longer ahead, some of them cheered for them anyway, even Sidney Fawcett.

 

“Finally, to Harry Potter… for pure nerve, and for keeping his wits and courage about him during a daring confrontation, I award Slytherin house… sixty points.”  The room erupted, and the applause was greater than before, even those who didn’t like Harry very much couldn’t seem to help congratulating them after Dumbledore’s odd last-minute awards.

 

The house cup hadn’t changed hands after all, but for whatever reason, the mood was more festive after Dumbledore’s announcements.  Even Ron Weasley didn’t look angry when Harry met his eye briefly over his half eaten pumpkin pasty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it then. I’ve got a short epilogue coming soon.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


	11. Epilogue – Leave-taking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

The days that followed were like floating on a cloud.  Harry was more popular than ever, and seemed to have friends throughout the school.  He and Draco passed their exams, and Harry was quite pleased to note his potions score was his second highest, after transfiguration.  Even Crabbe and Goyle – who hadn’t done nearly as much studying, and often had no patience for learning at all, it seemed – had passed, and would be returning with them next year.

 

Professor Snape sent a notice that he would talk briefly to each of the Slytherins to give them advice on what to expect the next year, and while Harry wasn’t exactly looking forward to his ‘interview’, even the thought of Snape’s biting comments couldn’t deflate his enjoyment of the end of the year.

 

Draco wouldn’t tell him precisely what Snape had said during his interview, even though Harry pestered him when he returned looking rather thoughtful.

 

When it was Harry’s turn, he entered Snape’s office and took a seat without saying anything, wishing he could be anywhere else, but determined not to let the Potions Professor know how uncomfortable he was.

 

“I will admit I’m surprised you’ve done so well, Potter.”  Snape told him after a few tense moments.

 

“You shouldn’t be; you’ve seen how much effort I’ve been putting into potions.” Harry countered.

 

“Are you accusing me of falsehood?” One thin black eyebrow rose above his eye.

 

That reminded Harry of what Snape had said when they’d tried to ask him about Voldemort, as well as what Quirrel had revealed later.  “Sir…” Harry had to ask.

 

Snape’s scowl returned.

 

“Sir, when Draco asked you, about Voldemort…”

 

“Boldness, or foolishness, to speak His name.” Snape said snidely.

 

Harry ignored the taunt, “When he asked you about Voldemort!” Harry repeated more firmly, “You said you knew of no one at the school who would help him.”

 

“Is there a point to this Potter?” Snape replied acidly.

 

“Quirrel said you’d suspected him, and that’s why you got injured on Halloween.” Harry finished in a bit of a rush.

 

Snape looked genuinely startled, an expression Harry had never seen on his face before.  Snape paced briefly behind his desk, and then regarded Harry seriously.  Harry realized with an awkward start that Snape hadn’t worn his customary look of distaste on his face when looking at Harry since before the incident with Norbert.  Maybe Snape didn’t hate him anymore, though he still didn’t exactly look happy to be in Harry’s presence.

 

“I’m assigning you a project for the summer.” Snape told him at last, and Harry’s heart suddenly sunk into his stomach.  “Research soothstones; focus on the methods by which they can be fooled and undone.  I’ll expect an essay when you return in September, is that understood?”

 

He hadn’t exactly evaded the question.  Harry remembered now Lucius warning him that a soothstone could be fooled, Snape must have used one of those methods to fool him, and Harry hadn’t even considered the possibility before now.

 

“Understood.” Harry sighed.

 

Snape gave him no opportunity to argue, and soon Harry was back in the hall, wondering if he’d been mistaken to assume Snape no longer hated him.  Afterall, he hadn’t assigned anyone _else_ extra homework over the summer break, just Harry.

 

He was almost back to the Slytherin common room when it occurred to Harry that he hadn’t actually mentioned the soothstone to Snape.

 

* * * * *

 

Before he knew it, the last week had flown past, their things were all packed, and they were back on the train to platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross Station.  Once arrived, they passed through the archway in pairs, or in threes, and Harry hung back until almost last, because everyone wanted to say goodbye, or shake his hand.  Or at least it seemed that way.  Neither Ron Weasley or Seamus Finnigan appeared to bid him a good summer, he noted.

 

Once Harry made it through the wall between platforms nine and ten, he heard, “There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”  It was the Weasley’s youngest sister, Harry thought, as he recognized the red hair and freckles that matched Ron, Fred, George, and Percy’s.  Though her mother – the only member of the family he’d seen so far whose hair was brown instead of red – quickly admonished her for being rude and pointing.

 

He flashed them a smile, just the same, and the young girl hid when she realized he was looking her way.

 

“Are you Harry Potter?” a man asked him, and Harry blinked, recognizing a uniform of one of the muggle bag carriers here at the station, on a tall skinny boy who looked just old enough to be out of school, and didn’t quite fit his uniform.

 

“Yes I am.” He affirmed, wondering what this was about.

 

“I have a delivery for you.”  He told Harry, as he handed him a very normal looking envelope, and departed.  This wasn’t like the envelopes he was used to seeing wizards owl each other.  This was a muggle white legal envelope.  The only writing on it was Harry’s name, the current time and date, and the location; “between platforms nine and ten”.  Harry opened the envelope and scanned the brief message.

 

Mr. Potter,

I am delighted to hear of your successes at school this year, and look forwards to following your progress further in the years to come.  I enjoyed our brief meeting, and I can assure you it won’t be our last.

Congratulations, and good fortunes to you.

 

V. D. V.

 

There was no indication of the author other than the three very stylized initials, and Harry was bewildered as to the source or meaning of this unusual note.  He couldn’t imagine Voldemort sending him a letter, and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d met who might send him something so cryptic in this unusual fashion.  Unusual for wizards or muggles, now that Harry thought on it.

 

“You’ll visit, over the summer, won’t you?” Draco asked, standing now with his parents, who both smiled at Harry.  He noted his aunt and uncle looking at the affluent pair with a small amount of wariness just a few feet beyond, and couldn’t resist smiling as he imagined how the two families would clash if they were ever in the same room together.

 

“Of course, I’d love to visit the manor again.” He said it loudly enough for the Dursleys to overhear.  In many ways the Malfoys were what Vernon and Petunia aspired to be – except for being magic, of course – and Harry had a feeling that their eventual interactions would be a bit shocking, perhaps for both sides.  For now though, he was just pleased with the thought of how he could torment Dudley, since none of them knew he wasn’t allowed to use magic over the holidays.

 

“Great, I’ll send you an owl, and we’ll arrange transportation.” Draco hugged Harry briefly, and added in a much softer voice, “And remember to let me know if they give you any trouble.”  Draco had evidently noticed the Dursleys as well.  “I won’t curse them, but I’m sure we can come up with something to make things… interesting.” He grinned, and then turned to leave with his own family.

 

Whatever the future brought… for now, Harry was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first year gone and I must trouble you with an author’s wheezing waffles…
> 
> Anyways… this is the end of Harry Potter and the Dragon’s Heir, Year 1 – The Philosopher Stone. But it’s far from the end of the story. It’s been a long run, and the next year will be even longer.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through this, as well as those newcomers to the story. Thanks for every review, and every comment, criticism, and critique.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.


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